A Stranger in Town: The Lifetime Original Movie
by Neftzer
Summary: Friends from a mailing list have a go at writing their own Lifetime Original Movie, cliche by time-worn cliche. The story is about a widowed bride of 6 years ago and a Stranger--in town. Enjoy.
1. Widowed or not?

...**Let me set this up for you**. Myself and three friends have a mailing list where we exchange various silly things that have absolutely nothing to do with real life or "major issues."   
For example, all through 2001 KLS was re-capping her day-by-day romance novel office desk calendar, "Married By Midnight." Likewise, we also from time to time re-cap definitions from an on-line rap dictionary, and have lunch-time polls concerning such hot-button topics as whether or not Hildy sabotaged her own design on _Trading Spaces_ in order to get Paige to give her extra money in the budget to buy new furniture. It ain't NPR, but clearly we're dealing with very important and very of-the-moment problems here.   
In the midst of all this, One of us (JMG) proposed writing a round-robin Lifetime Original Movie after having sat through a two-hour LOM torture-fest starring Jeri Ryan that proved so bad JMG felt that she might need to write Jeri just to tell her that she had watched it, she was _that_ much of a fan. So far the task of writing has shown itself to be incredibly easy.   
Each part is written by a different member of "MBTV4Supalazy," our mailing list, and the authorship of each will here be designated by our respective initials, JMG, AAB, TRVMB, KLS. Because of this style and tone may vary from section to section.   
So, we begin Part One of "A Stanger In Town: The Making of a Lifetime Original Movie"

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Part One : A STRANGER IN TOWN   
by: JMG  
  
A young couple from a small town have just been married, which we have seen with great rejoicing. Naturally, we have seen many details of the girl's mother fussing over the food and flowers while the bride and groom smile and sneak off for a walk together on the day before the wedding. They are sooooo in love. Now they are married and driving toward their inexpensive honeymoon destination on a stormy night. Oh no! Part of the bridge is washed out, and their car slides into the raging river!   
  
The next day, the girl wakes in the hospital to learn that her beloved is presumed dead. They found scraps from his clothing snagged in the car, so it is certain he was trapped in there for quite a while as she was flung free to be saved. They haven't recovered the body yet, what with the raging flood and continued bad weather, but there's just no hope, says the sincere sheriff as he solemnly shakes his head.   
  
Six years later, the same girl is laughing in a large, sunny house, playing with a small baby. Her handsome new husband comes home from work, kisses her sweetly, and smiles tenderly at the baby. They, as a family, are soooooo in love. They talk about how her mother is driving up from Smalltown for dinner tomorrow night, and we remember the fussy woman fondly. The girl agrees to pick up the dry-cleaning when she's out shopping for groceries tomorrow in preparation for the dinner.   
  
Shopping, walking down the streets of a bustling but impossibly clean and friendly midsized town. Several people wave in passing, and Girl stops on the sidewalk to chat with a friend who coos over the baby. While friend is talking, Girl glances over Friend's shoulder and sees... _A STRANGER IN TOWN_. Is it...? Could it be...? No! Girl realizes that Friend is staring at her strangely, waiting for an answer, and Girl stammers that it is nothing, it was nice to see Friend, she has to go.   
Girl hurries off in the direction she saw the stranger, but he is gone.   
  


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_...to be continued..._   
DISCLAIMER: This fiction is property of its authors and has no connection with/to The Lifetime Channel or Movie Network or The Lifetime Original Movie beyond being a satire thereof. 


	2. Dinner Guest

  
Part Two : A STRANGER IN TOWN   
by: AAB  


Girl gets home, shaken--begins to prepare special dinner for Visiting Mom. Decides afternoon was just unpleasant flashback. Mom calls and says, "oh, car broke down in Smalltown--can I take a raincheck?" Girl says "sure, Mom. No trouble." Turns to re-schedule and realizes calendar date--anniversary of deathly ride in the water car. Mom comforts her, says that's why she thought it was important to visit--has Girl told new husband details of accident yet? But Girl has not, is unimportant, she says--in the past. They hang up and she is left alone with her anniversary of water-car Ride of Death memories. 

But she has made dinner and gone to a lot of trouble and what to do?--until husband calls. He's going to be bringing home new guy from office for dinner. Guy just transferred in from out of town, lonely, no family around here. 

Girl is pleased--at least the food won't go to waste. And it will be nice to have a new person to talk to and get to know to take her mind off things. 

She goes upstairs to change into nice outfit for company and to bathe baby--going to keep Jr. up until company shows so they can show him off--she knows consolation husband likes to brag about Jr.--though he doesn't do that much else with him, she reflects, sadly. Not like the Dad deadboy would have been. Maybe her suppressed sadness in her seemingly perfect marriage is what made her think she saw him today? 

Doorbell rings. She grabs Jr. and goes to meet the door. Consolation husband steps aside to introduce guest to pretty wife and baby heir. Pretty Wife smiles in anticipation and holds baby heir proudly. Consolation husband moves to put arm around pretty wife, and she meets eyes with dinner guest. 

For a moment she swoons--only Consolation Husband's arm around her keeps Pretty Wife from going down to kiss floor in a faint. Dinner Guest, her sweet bippy! It's him! It's Dead Boy, standing most not-at-all dead nor zombie-like in her doorway. 

She thought about letting herself fall into the faint--maybe he would be gone when she came to--and it would all be an hallucination or a bad dream--maybe she was becoming schizophrenic--she was in her early 20s. But she was holding Baby Heir, didn't want to drop him. So she held her ground as Consolation Husband commented that she was shivering--probably from the cool evening air and Dinner Guest should come in so they could close the door and keep Baby Heir from catching cold.   
  


* * *

  
_...to be continued..._   
DISCLAIMER: This fiction is property of its authors and has no connection with/to The Lifetime Channel or Movie Network or The Lifetime Original Movie beyond being a satire thereof. 


	3. Let's Eat, or at least Drink a lot

  
Part Three: A Stranger in Town   
by: JMG 

Girl stares intently at stranger, looking for signs of recognition, but he seems perfectly at ease. _Could she be imagining this? Could there be another who looks so much like her dear departed Deadboy?_ Consolation Husband steers her into the house and offers drinks all around, making his standard joke about mixing some up for Jr. Girl tries to recover her composure, mechanically setting the table and wondering if she really is going crazy. 

Girl is very quiet over dinner, but Consolation Husband keeps the conversation going smoothly on business topics so that Stranger can contribute. Stranger is friendly and charming, complimenting the meal and admiring Jr. Girl studies Stranger as they talk. It has been six years since she saw Deadboy, and she certainly didn't keep his picture up in her new house -- maybe the day is playing tricks on her mind, making her see connections where there are none. Certainly, if this were really deadboy, he would recognize her? 

Dinner over, Girl puts Jr. to bed and joins the men in the living room. The night is chilly, and Consolation Husband builds a fire while they chat.   
"So," says Consolation Husband to Stranger, "you said you were living on your own here. Got any family in the area?"   
Girl leans forward, anxious to learn any personal information about Stranger, but afraid to ask on her own. As Stranger opens his mouth to reply, the telephone rings in Husband's office, and Husband regretfully excuses himself to go and answer.   
  


* * *

  
_...to be continued..._   
DISCLAIMER: This fiction is property of its authors and has no connection with/to The Lifetime Channel or Movie Network or The Lifetime Original Movie beyond being a satire thereof. 


	4. Inappropriate Closetalking

  
Part Four: A Stranger in Town   
by: KLS 

Girl watches the doorway Consolation Husband just walked through, willing him to return. Then she chides herself for being so foolish. Of course it's not her dear departed deadboy! He had been dead for six years. Dear departed deadboys just don't show up one day on your front door. She's just about to give up thinking about dear departed deadboy and engage Stranger in some Polite Conversation--maybe what he thought of Smalltown, when she turns and realizes that he's standing right next to her. 

Girl makes a startled, "Yip!", then places her hand over her heart, as though that could keep it from jumping out of her chest. 

"I didn't mean to startle you," Stranger says, his voice low and close to her ear. Girl has the distinct impression that he is lying, he did mean to startle her, and her reaction pleased him. 

"No, you didn't, I was--I was just thinking of something else," she says, taking two steps back. Stranger closes the gap between them. 

"You have a lovely son," Stranger says. "He looks like you." 

Girl thinks, _Who?_, before remembering the weight on her hip. Junior just stares up at Stranger, eyes wide. "Thank you," Girl says. She looks back at the doorway. _What would Consolation Husband think if he walked in right now and saw Stranger standing so close?_ He had a tendency to get very jealous at the slightest thing. 

"You said you were thinking of something else," Stranger says smoothly, not looking at Girl, but at Junior. Stranger reaches out his finger to Jr, and Jr wraps his tiny, fat fist around it. 

"Oh, nothing. It's nothing. It's just that--," Girl begins, about to tell Stranger about his resemblance to dear departed dead boy before stopping herself. She wants to tell Stranger that this is the day when all of her dreams had been shattered, and though she has put the pieces back together they didn't seem to fit the same way. Maybe if she hadn't been leaning over to kiss dear departed boy, he would've seen that the bridge had been washed out and they would've stopped in time. They would have gone back to her mother's, by the time they pulled into the driveway laughing about how close that was. But why did she feel this urge to tell him anything about deadboy? Consolation Husband didn't even know everything, didn't even know that this had been their wedding day. "My mother was supposed to come to dinner tonight, actually--" 

"You're lying," Stranger said in a calm voice, still looking at Jr. 

"Excuse me?" Girl says. 

"I said, you're lying. You weren't thinking about your mother." 

Girl opens her mouth. "How dare you!" 

"Indeed," Stranger says. 

Girl doesn't know if she's more angry that he accused her of lying, in her own perfect dream house, or that he was saying it so calmly. 

And then Stranger surprises her more by asking, "How well do you know your husband?" 

But before she can say anything, Consolation Husband comes through the door in a rush saying, "Sorry, I'm sorry. What did I miss?"   
  


* * *

  
_...to be continued..._   
DISCLAIMER: This fiction is property of its authors and has no connection with/to The Lifetime Channel or Movie Network or The Lifetime Original Movie beyond being a satire thereof. 


	5. A Hushed Conversation

by: TRVMB 

Girl moves quickly to put some distance between herself and Stranger, and manages a smile for Consolation Husband, ignoring his question.  "Say goodnight to Daddy, Junior," she stammers. 

"Goodnight, Sport.  Hopefully you'll stay in bed this time," chuckles Consolation Husband, as Girl whisks him up the stairs to the nursery, careful to avoid eye contact with Stranger. 

"Whatever did he mean with that question?" Girl ponders as she tucks Junior beneath his soft, quilted blankets.  As she quietly hums _Brahms' Lullaby_, the unease of the evening begins its descent upon her being.  _I know my husband very well.  Just who does this man think he is, marching into Smalltown out of nowhere, attempting to plant seeds of doubt into my mind?  How could he have asked such an odd, pointed question to someone he has just met?_ Girls asks herself. 

But, if she had just met him, why did his standing so closely to her in the living room just those few minutes ago seem so familiar?  Why did she not move away when he got too close?  And how did he know she hadn't been thinking about her mother?  

_I'm overanalyzing this,_ she convinces herself. _He probably meant nothing by it._

Once Girl is certain that Junior is once more fast asleep, she quietly eases out of the nursery, gently closing the door behind her.  She tiptoes down the hallway and into hers and Consolation Husband's bedroom to turn on the baby monitor, then begins her descent back down the stairs to the living room to again rejoin the men.  The hushed words she hears coming out of Consolation Husband's clenched mouth, however, make her stop mid-flight. 

"All I know is this--if you don't learn to keep that big trap of yours shut, she's going to become suspicious.  If you want this plan to work, you're going to have to control yourself until the time is right." 

. 

_...to be continued..._

. 

* * *

**Disclaimer:** This fiction is intended as parody only; the characters, plot, etc., are the intellectual property of its authors. This story is not in **any way** affiliated with the Lifetime Channel, Lifetime Television, or the Lifetime Original Movie franchise. 

* * *

by: Neftzer and friends (AAB, TRVMB, JMG, KLS) (c)2003  
_Feedback Appreciated!_  
Check out royaltoby.com/shack for Neftzer's OutBack Fiction Shack 


	6. You Never Came Back Down

by: AAB 

_What could the meaning of this quarrel be? What could it be between the two men--one of whom who looked dead-on _(she grimaced at the unsympathetic pun) _like her dear departed Deadboy--that could cause such harsh, heated words to be exchanged? Especially since the Dinner Guest had not been in town for very long, and Consolation Husband was usually so easy to get along with? _

Didn't all the other pretty married women in her development just outside of Smalltown agree that Consolation Husband was the best catch? And she, the luckiest of all the Pretty Wives? Why would he talk to a guest this way? 

Don't be silly, she told herself sternly, as the whispered voices melted away, _it's nothing but a disagreement left over from work, and exacerbated by a little too much Franzia-in-a-box_. She knew she should have asked Consolation Husband to pick up some Ernest & Julio Gallo--friends never quarreled over a glass of their blush. 

Outside of the oak, original-to-the-house pocket doors--which she had only recently painted a light, airy peach--that led into the front room where her guest and husband were, she paused to collect herself, smoothed her hair and skirt, straightened the seams in her stockings. Just as she was about to cross into the room, and before either of its occupants had had a chance to see her, she turned on her sensible-yet-sexy heel from Thom McAnn, and set off back up the stairs. She had a sudden urge to open the trapdoor to the attic and root through a very old armoire her mother had given her. There was a picture in a box of old things being forgotten, next to a box of jewelry a man who was not Consolation Husband had given her that she really thought she needed to see before going back down the stairs. 

But just as she was tugging at the rope to the collapsible attic stairs in her giant walk-in closet (with a special rack just for her scarves), she heard someone enter her bedroom and she turned to see Consolation Husband framed by the recently replaced crown moudling and soft, track lighting they had both agreed to install several weeks ago. 

"You never came back down, Baby, Sweetheart," he crooned. 

"I was just on my way down--shall we go together?" She made no effort to conceal that she had been on her way to the attic--the exact opposite direction of the drawing room and the Dinner Guest it held. 

"No need, Dinner Guest has called himself a cab." Consolation chuckled, and as he moved closer she could smell the Franzia-in-a-box on his breath, "seems he had a bit too much. Eluisa will see him out for us. That's what maids are for." 

"But--" she began, "my place, as hostess, is--" She feared very much that she might never see Dinner Guest again. 

"--right here, so says the host," Consolation Husband propositioned. 

And, as always--as any Pretty Wife should--she gave in. 

. 

_...to be continued..._

. 

* * *

**Disclaimer:** This fiction is intended as parody only; the characters, plot, etc., are the intellectual property of its authors. This story is not in **any way** affiliated with the Lifetime Channel, Lifetime Television, or the Lifetime Original Movie franchise. 

* * *

by: Neftzer and friends (AAB, TRVMB, JMG, KLS) (c)2003  
_Feedback Appreciated!_  
Check out royaltoby.com/shack for Neftzer's OutBack Fiction Shack 


	7. How Men Behave

by: TRVMB 

After a night of seemingly satisfactory lovemaking, the next morning finds Consolation Husband kissing Junior and Girl goodbye and scurrying to the office.  Girl begins preparing breakfast for Junior, whilst pondering the events of the night before.  Why had Dinner Guest asked her how well she knew her husband?  Why did Consolation Husband and Dinner Guest seem to be keeping something from her?  Why did Consolation Husband act as if everything were okay, after Dinner Guest left?  And why, oh why, could he never try anything NEW in the bedroom? 

As she feeds Junior his baby cereal and bananas, Girl calls her mother. 

"Hi Mom, it's just me." 

"Good morning, dear.  Is everything alright?" 

"Yes, everything's fine.  I just...Well, okay, something is on my mind." 

"Out with it.  You know you'll feel better if you just talk to Mama." 

"You're right.  And it's probably nothing.  Last night, Consolation Husband had a co-worker over for dinner.  Afterwards, the three of us were conversing in the living room, and Consolation Husband had to take a phone call in the other room.  While he was gone, the co-worker seemed to...I don't know...Things just got a little weird.  He was standing awfully close to me, and then he asked me exactly how well I knew my husband." 

"Oh, my!" 

"I KNOW!  Right after he asked me that, Consolation Husband re-entered the room, and the co-worker acted as if the question had never even been posed." 

"Oh, sweetie, he was FLIRTING with you!  Were you wearing your cashmere sweater?" 

"Well, yes, but..." 

"You've just been married for so long. You've forgotten how men behave in the presence of beautiful females.  Oh darling, don't you worry your pretty little head over that.  You just make it clear to this gentleman that you are spoken for, and don't think another thing about it." 

"Okay.  But then, Mom, after I left the room, I overheard the men saying..." 

"Just a minute, dear, I'm afraid I have another call.  Do you mind holding for a minute?" 

"Actually, Mom, I really should clean Junior up and get out the door. We'll be late for Mommy and Me class.  I'll just talk to you later.  Love you, Mom." 

"Love you too, dear."  Mom ends her conversation with Girl, and clicks over to her other call. 

"Hello?  Oh, hi.  I just had a very interesting conversation that I'm _sure_ will be of particular interest to you..." 

. 

_...to be continued..._

. 

* * *

**Disclaimer:** This fiction is intended as parody only; the characters, plot, etc., are the intellectual property of its authors. This story is not in **any way** affiliated with the Lifetime Channel, Lifetime Television, or the Lifetime Original Movie franchise. 

* * *

by: Neftzer and friends (AAB, TRVMB, JMG, KLS) (c)2003  
_Feedback Appreciated!_  
Check out royaltoby.com/shack for Neftzer's OutBack Fiction Shack 


	8. In which Dinner Guest becomes Stranger

by: KLS 

It was hard for Pretty Wife to concentrate on the Mommy and Me activities. She understood that these activities were important in raising an uber Heir. Consolation Husband had said again and again: Junior must be the best!  So she flashed great works of art, the Greek alphabet, and mathematical formulas at Junior, but her heart just wasn't in it.  

In fact, if she thought about it, her heart hadn't been in much since that rainy night six years ago.  If she thought about it long enough, she'd realize that she'd just been going through the motions: getting married to Consolation Husband--even Junior, though a joy, could not pierce the haze she walked in. 

But she didn't want to think about it.  So she bundled Junior up and headed out of the Mommy and Me class into the bright sunshine.  She settled Junior into the car seat in her sensible Volvo which was only a reminder of what her life had become: safe, reliable, boxy.  She was not going to think about it.  She'd think about the errands she had to run today: dry cleaners to pick up Consolation Husband's shirts, and a birthday gift for Consolation Husband's secretary.  And maybe she'd pick up some flowers, work on her flower garden.  Gardening never failed to calm her. 

She was thinking of the flowers she'd like to plant--daisies, black-eyed susans, impatiens--when there was a knock on the passenger side window. 

It was Dinner Guest/Stranger.  He was leaning down, looking into her car.  He looked at her, then in the backseat at Junior.  Then he made a motion with his hand that indicated that he wanted her to roll down her window.  She didn't want to.  She wanted to just pull away, but that would look silly.  She could imagine Stranger telling Consolation Husband.  "Hey, C.H., I saw your wife the other day in town.  I tried to say, 'hi,' but then she just peeled out!" It's not like she could tell Consolation Husband that she was frightened. Frightened of what?  She didn't know, so she rolled down her window. 

"Hi," he said brightly. 

"Hi," she said. 

"I'm glad I ran into you," he said.  And then, before she could respond, he reached his hand inside her car, flipped the lock, and crawled into the passenger seat.  He had to move a few books that were on the seat.  Pretty Wife had picked them up at the library during storytime. 

Stranger read the titles, "How to Have the Best Marriage EVER! and The Pirate and the Auctioned Bride.  Interesting titles.  Any good?" He asked before tossing them into the back. 

"Get out! What are you doing in here?" Pretty Wife said, looking around her. She had heard about car-jacking on _Oprah_, but she couldn't remember what she was supposed to do.  She could just get out, but then Junior would still be strapped in his car seat with Stranger.  

"What do you want?" Pretty Wife said, her hand gripping the steering wheel. 

Stranger didn't respond right away.  Pretty Wife could feel his gaze on her face.  She just looked straight ahead.  The silence was almost unbearable, and then Junior hit a button on his toy key-chain that played _London Bridge_.  Junior laughed, and Stranger shifted his gaze away from Pretty Wife to the passenger side window. 

"Cute kid," Stranger said. 

"Thanks," Pretty Wife said. 

"I wanted to talk to you," Stranger said. 

"You don't even know me!" Pretty Wife said. 

"Maybe not anymore, but I did once.  And I know that Consolation Husband is not who he appears to be." 

_This again!_ And suddenly Pretty Wife had an idea.  She slammed her hand down on the horn and just kept pressing it over and over again, loud and insistent.  

"Wait," Stranger said.  "You don't need to do that.  I'm trying to protect you!" 

But Pretty Wife didn't want to hear anymore.  And soon, just as she predicted, Betsy from the fabric store--where Pretty Wife had just bought fabric to make Junior's Halloween costume--came out of her store. Pretty Wife just kept pressing the horn. 

Stranger took one last look at her.  Pretty Wife could've sworn she saw an element of sadness in his eyes, eyes that seemed so familiar to her.  They seemed so familiar that she stopped pressing the horn, just as he was getting out of the car. 

"Wait," she said, not knowing why.  But he was gone. 

. 

_...to be continued..._

. 

* * *

**Disclaimer:** This fiction is intended as parody only; the characters, plot, etc., are the intellectual property of its authors. This story is not in **any way** affiliated with the Lifetime Channel, Lifetime Television, or the Lifetime Original Movie franchise. 

* * *

by: Neftzer and friends (AAB, TRVMB, JMG, KLS) (c)2003  
_Feedback Appreciated!_  
Check out royaltoby.com/shack for Neftzer's OutBack Fiction Shack 


	9. Enter the Dry

by: AAB 

NOTE: Previously on _A STRANGER IN TOWN_ ('cause suddenly this is being broadcast on the WB?), Pretty Wife did some shopping, bought fabric for Junior's Halloween Costume, and encountered the long-dead love of her life in the close, boxy quarters of her mostly-paid-for silver Volvo. She attempted to frighten him away with the skillful honking of the horn until, like a woman, she realized she wanted nothing more than to talk to him about--everything. Dead Boy left though, in that near-magical way he has, vanishing at just the moment anyone is ready to call him into account over the fact that he is dead, so very dead, yet walking around Town Falls like he's not at all the man he so strongly resembles. 

Now, on an all-new _A STRANGER IN TOWN_... 

Pretty Wife--Girl to her friends--stepped out from behind the wheel of her Volvo to meet Fabric Store Betsy and allay the shopgirl's fears. "Only the panic button," Girl quipped, lying, "I mistakenly sat on the darned keychain!" She laughed hollowly. "These European-engineered luxury autos, I told C.H. to buy American." Betsy and she laughed the near-encounter with danger (for surely the Look-alike was dangerous) off. 

"Oh," Betsy said, before returning to the fabric store, "you asked me to remind you to stop by the dry cleaners. You said you had something important to pick up." 

"Right, right! I had almost forgotten C.H. asked me to pick up for him." 

Betsy smiled and asked curiously if Girl was crushin' on the cleaner, the handsome Dan "the Dry" Dry Cleaner Drysdale. 

Girl was momentarily confused. _What would make Betsy ask such a thing? Or give her such a salacious idea about Pretty Wife, dedicated mate of Consolation Husband and mother/caregiver to Baby Heir? Hadn't she and C.H. just spent hours together last weekend re-pouring the foundation to the garage? Love like that doesn't allow room for silly schoolgirl crushes--or does it?_

"It's only," Betsy apologized for what she had seen as only a throwaway remark, "that you seem to be dropping off or picking up something there everyday lately." 

As Girl got into the car to head out to the dry cleaners, she realized that Betsy was right, only she, Girl, hadn't seen it. The Cleaners was the only commonality--well, that and the fact she spoke with her mother each day--that joined the past days of her life with the run-in with the Look-alike. She had been expressly sent by Consolation Husband each of those days to the Dry Cleaner to either pick up or drop off. And C.H. always demanded the receipt slip for each item, "for safe keeping," giving it back to her only just before asking her to pick something up, as though she could not be trusted to keep track of the slip herself. 

Something wasn't right here; there was a man prowling around, frightening her, that looked and spoke and even swallowed like the husband she had long ago given up for drowned; her husband didn't trust her, Pretty Wife and high school valedictorian, to keep track of a dry cleaning slip, and there was a dark, long-repressed part of her that had begun seeping into her baby-powder fresh days as a wife and loving mother, and she sure as all heck was NOT going to get all the way through Part Ten without finding out some answers, and she was _sure_ Dan "the Dry" Dry Cleaner Drysdale had at least some of them. 

As she pulled into the Dry Cleaner's parking lot, she saw his messy tufts of bleached-blond surfer hair crest over the counter as he handed a customer a helpful leaflet on getting out ink stains using only common household chemicals. His sharp, light hazel eyes darted to the window and caught hers as she closed the Volvo's back door. Betsy was right, the Dry was handsome. She marveled that she had not noticed it before. She licked her lips and pressed together her 12-hour sure-fire no-fade lipstick. Well, she was Pretty Wife, after all, and if using that to get some answers was going to be a help, she was up to it. And more... 

. 

_...to be continued..._

. 

* * *

**Disclaimer:** This fiction is intended as parody only; the characters, plot, etc., are the intellectual property of its authors. This story is not in **any way** affiliated with the Lifetime Channel, Lifetime Television, or the Lifetime Original Movie franchise. 

* * *

by: Neftzer and friends (AAB, TRVMB, JMG, KLS) (c)2003  
_Feedback Appreciated!_  
Check out royaltoby.com/shack for Neftzer's OutBack Fiction Shack 


	10. Dead Men Don't Talk on the phone

by: JMG 

Previously, on "A Stranger In Town" ... Mom ends her conversation with Girl, and clicks over to her other call. 

"Hello?  Oh, hi.  I just had a very interesting conversation that I'm sure will be of particular interest to you..." 

"Really?" queried Deadboy, surprised. "That was fast." 

"Well, you did tell me to keep my ears open for anything that sounded suspicious about Consolation Husband, although I still think you must have the wrong fellow. Girl tells me he brought a coworker home who was behaving very strangely, asking how well she knew her husband!  Are you sure it wouldn't be better if we told Girl about your suspicions?" 

"No!" replied Deadboy, a little too vehemently.  "That is, Girl must continue to live with him as if nothing were wrong.  We don't want to worry her or take a chance on tipping him off about the investigation." 

"I suppose you're right, Detective," sighed Mom.  "As long as you are sure she's not in any danger." 

"Absolutely," replied Deadboy. "We'd pull her out of there at the first sign of trouble.  Thanks for your time, ma'am, and you feel free to call if anything else comes up." 

"I wish this whole mess was over, but it is a comfort, knowing how hard you are working on this case.  I hope someday I might get the chance to thank you in person - you sound like such a wonderful young man." 

"Thank you. Maybe someday," came the soft reply before the Detective hung up the phone. 

_What was he doing?  What could he possibly be thinking, involving himself in her life again like this?  When he had taken the undercover assignment to gain the trust of Consolation Husband, it was just another day on the job. But spending the evening with her...he knew there had been something between them.  He felt the connection instantly, long before the first murky memories began to surface from the black void that was Before.  They had dated, he thought; maybe even been in love -- or at least he had, he was pretty sure._  

He knew he couldn't blow this, his first undercover assignment; they had waited so long to send him out, nervous about letting him try to maintain a false identity when he was still so shaky on his own actual past.  One mistake, one old acquaintance that he didn't recognize in order to avoid, once chance meeting in the presence of his target could instantly reveal him for a fraud.  He had finally convinced them that, after working in Metropolis for five years without once being recognized it was highly unlikely that anyone around here ever knew him at all. He had certainly never dreamed he could find himself trying to bring down the husband of a former love! 

[That's part "10" as in "1 out of 10 people in cheesy TV movies suffers from amnesia"] 

. 

_...to be continued..._

. 

* * *

**Disclaimer:** This fiction is intended as parody only; the characters, plot, etc., are the intellectual property of its authors. This story is not in **any way** affiliated with the Lifetime Channel, Lifetime Television, or the Lifetime Original Movie franchise. 

* * *

by: Neftzer and friends (AAB, TRVMB, JMG, KLS) (c)2003  
_Feedback Appreciated!_  
Check out royaltoby.com/shack for Neftzer's OutBack Fiction Shack 


	11. 2536

by: TRVMB 

Previously on Stranger...Girl/Pretty Wife travels to see Dan "the Dry" Drycleaner Drysdale for some answers... 

And now, on a very special installment of "A Stranger in Town..." 

Pretty Wife and Junior arrive at Dan's Drycleaning just as he is turning over some freshly-pressed suits and jackets to Mrs. Jackson Thoroughgood, the prissiest and richest old biddy in town. 

"Yes, Mrs. Thoroughgood, I had all Mr. Thoroughgood's suits pressed and starched, just as he likes them." 

"Well, I should certainly hope so.  He has that big conference coming up in Dallas, you know.  Good day, Mr. Drysdale." 

"Good day, Mrs. Thoroughgood."   Dan winks at Pretty Wife.  "And how can I help you today, ma'am?" 

"Here for my daily pickup and drop-off," Pretty Wife responds as she hands over the ticket C.H. had given her that morning, doing her best to appear breezy and nonchalant.  Darn if that Dan Drysdale wasn't a looker, after all! 

"I'll take those," Dan smiles, relieving Pretty Wife of her ticket and dirty clothing.  "And how are you on this fine morning?" 

"Oh, we couldn't be better!" Pretty Wife declares, lovingly caressing Junior's cheek.  "We've all been doing very well.  In fact, C.H. brought a co-worker home last evening to share in our joy." 

"Is that right?  Bob?  Hasn't that bachelor learned to cook for himself yet?" 

"No, it wasn't Bob.  It was a new guy--What was his name?" 

Dan's ever-present smile and accompanying dimples disappeared.  "Tall guy with dark hair, sort of a basketball-player build?" 

"Yes!  He stayed for dinner and drinks.  Seemed like a nice fellow." Pretty Wife was studying Dan for a reaction, but his poker face returned. 

"Yeah, I've seen them having lunch over at Phil's Diner.  They always seem to be deep in conversation about something." 

"Oh, really?  Where is he from, anyway?  He seems to have blown into town from nowhere."  Pretty Wife's attempts at appearing nonchalant were vanishing.  If Dan knew something about this guy, she was going to do her best to get it out of him. 

"I'm not sure.  All I know is that he works with your husband at the bank. A loan officer, maybe.  $25.36." 

"Excuse me?" 

"That'll be $25.36 for today's drycleaning, ma'am.  And here's your ticket for tomorrow's pickup."  Drycleaner Dan's smile brought Pretty Wife back to reality. 

"Oh.  Right.  Here you go.  Guess I'd better get Junior home and into bed for his nap.  See you tomorrow." 

"Good Day, ma'am," Dan drawled, as she exited the establishment. 

Pretty Wife quickly gathered her drycleaning ticket and her son, and headed back to her vehicle.  She fastened Junior into his carseat; as she then put her sensible car into gear and headed home, her mind was racing.  Something didn't seem quite right about the conversation she'd just had with Drycleaner Dan.  Why did he cut her off when she began asking for details about Stranger?  

Before today, he had always been very friendly and helpful--today he seemed to clam up when Deadboy was mentioned.  Oh, well...at least she knew that Deadboy and C.H. lunched together regularly. 

Pretty Wife decided to give a friend from Mommy and Me class a call as she pulled into her driveway.  After all, Rebecca was a waitress at Phil's Diner--perhaps she might be able to shed a little light on things. 

. 

_...to be continued..._

. 

* * *

**Disclaimer:** This fiction is intended as parody only; the characters, plot, etc., are the intellectual property of its authors. This story is not in **any way** affiliated with the Lifetime Channel, Lifetime Television, or the Lifetime Original Movie franchise. 

* * *

by: Neftzer and friends (AAB, TRVMB, JMG, KLS) (c)2003  
_Feedback Appreciated!_  
Check out royaltoby.com/shack for Neftzer's OutBack Fiction Shack 


	12. He Was Going To Tell Me Everything

by: KLS 

Dan "the Dry" Drycleaner Drysdale watched Girl go.  It was obvious that she was getting suspicious.  She wasn't stupid.  In fact, he thought to himself, she was most wonderful girl he had ever met.  And, she was also attentive to her husband's dry-cleaning needs.  Husband being the key word, he reminded himself.  And, clearly, since Girl was so consumed with keeping her husband's shirts and suits cleaned, she must love him dearly.  

But, Dan "the Dry" Drycleaner Drysdale had to admit, if only to himself, that he didn't like not answering her questions.  She had come to him for help.  If she couldn't trust her local drycleaner, who could she trust?  Dan the Dry ran his fingers through his sun-bleached--but be honest, it was a dye job--hair, trying to think what to do.  It did not take him long.  He handed off the drycleaning orderbook of power, told Hired-Help that she was in charge for the afternoon, and headed towards his car.  

Dan "the Dry" drove directly to Girl's house.  He had, of course, seen it before on those nights when he just "happened" to drive this way.  He parked across the street and strode up the walk-way--with its well-manicured edges and up to the front door. In fact, he had seen Girl and Consolation Husband working on the yard this last Saturday. 

Girl had Junior on her hip with the phone in the other hand. 

"Dan "the Dry" Drycleaner Drysdale?" Girl said.  "What are you doing here?" 

Dan "the Dry" didn't say anything, just motioned for her to come outside. 

Girl looked at him then said into the phone, "I'm going to have to call you back, Rebecca the Waitress.  Thanks."  She turned off the phone and walked back into the house to hang it back on the wall.  She expected Dan "the Dry" Drycleaner Drysdale to follow her, but he stayed at the front door. 

She grabbed a sweater for her and for Junior--it would not do for either of them to catch a cold.  _She was having the strangest day!  Was it any wonder that she was seeing Dead-boy on the streets.  A little early for a mid-life crisis, don't you think?_ she told herself. 

Dan "the Dry" Drycleaner Drysdale was at the edge of the robust-green-perfect-marriage-and-family-no-secrets-in-the-past-or-dead-husbands-coming-back-to-life-lawn waiting for Girl when she locked up the front door and met him out on the sidewalk. 

"This is really strange, Dan "the Dry" Drycleaner Drysdale.  Did I forget a shirt?" 

Dan "the Dry" stopped abruptly and turned towards Girl.  "This is very important.  But I don't think we should talk in the open like this."  He grabbed her arms as though to pull her away with him. 

Girl had had enough.  She jerked her arm back.  "Take your hands off me, Dan "the Dry" Drysdale.  You may have my drycleaning business and maybe I think you're cute and interesting in a non-threatening-you're-even-more-consolation-than-consolation-husband kind of way.  But if we're going to talk, we'll do it right here!" 

Dan "the Dry" bowed his head, then looked directly into her eyes. 

"I know more about Stranger than I told you before, back at the Drycleaners."  Dan "the Dry" looked over his shoulder.  "I'm not supposed to tell you, but I think you may be in danger by not knowing.  You have to know who to trust.  You can trust me.  Will you come with me?" 

Even though part of Girl realized that Dan "the Dry" Drycleaner Drysdale had not revealed anything, she felt that she could trust him.  And he seemed agitated here on the drowsy-Midwestern street. 

"You were born in Small Town, right?" Dan the Dry said. 

"Yes, I didn't move to Town Falls until after--" 

"After your husband was killed in a freak bridge accident?" 

"But, but how did you know about that? Not even Consolation Husband knows!" 

"Please, we can't talk here.  You have to come with me!" 

"Okay, okay," Girl agreed reluctantly. 

"My car's across the street." 

Dan "the Dry" Drycleaner Drysdale was a few feet in front of her when Girl realized that she couldn't go with Dan "the Dry" because he probably didn't have a car seat in his car, and Girl, of all people, knew the importance of car safety.  Accidents could happen even when you were driving to your honeymoon with your soon-to-be-dead husband.  But before she could voice her concern for child safety, a car came careening down the road.  It took Girl a few moments to process that the car was going much too fast for this sleepy Small Town-like street.  She shouted, "Dan "the Dry" Drycleaner Drysdale!" and then cursed that his name was so long. 

He turned and saw the car, but it was much too late.  The car struck him just as he was about to make a dive out of the way.  The late model, dark blue Buick struck the Dry, and he rolled up onto the hood, hitting and shattering the windshield before crumpling onto the pavement.  The car then sped away. 

Girl screamed and ran to Dan the Dry's side.  Junior had started to cry, too.  

"Oh, Dan the Dry! Don't move, don't move!"  Girl noticed that Old Neighbor had walked shakily out of his front door.  She yelled to him to call 9-1-1. 

"Girl, Girl," Dan "the Dry" Drycleaner Drysdale croaked.  "Your husband isn't dead.  Your husband is," he swallowed, "Your husband is--" 

. 

_...to be continued..._

. 

* * *

**Disclaimer:** This fiction is intended as parody only; the characters, plot, etc., are the intellectual property of its authors. This story is not in **any way** affiliated with the Lifetime Channel, Lifetime Television, or the Lifetime Original Movie franchise. 

* * *

by: Neftzer and friends (AAB, TRVMB, JMG, KLS) (c)2003  
_Feedback Appreciated!_  
Check out royaltoby.com/shack for Neftzer's OutBack Fiction Shack 


	13. The blood makes it look worse than it is

by: AAB 

Previously on A STRANGER IN TOWN: Dan the Dry is nearly assassinated by a giant late-model Blue Buick, whose driver we did not see. He lays, injured perhaps beyond repair, croaking what may be his last words to the Pretty Wife he can never call his own, while his fevered mind wonders if even _he_ would be able to get out the blood stains blossoming on what had been his perfectly pressed Tuesday blue oxford. 

"Girl, Girl," Dan "the Dry" Dry Cleaner Drysdale croaked.  "Your husband isn't dead.  Your husband is," he swallowed, "Your husband is--" 

Girl again screamed for Old Neighbor to call 9-1-1 while Dry gasped to get his breath. 

"My husband," she prodded, pulling his head into her lap and violating every First Aid maxim ever written. "What about him? Oh, Dan!" She sobbed. 

The blood on his shirt turned darker in color. 

"You have no husband," Dan said, and his breath wheezed, in a death-like exhale. "When they take me away," he stressed, "you'll just tell yourself that it was my fevered brain talking, but it _isn't_. You have no husband, and that husband _has_ no dry cleaning. _No_dry_cleaning_." 

And he passed out. Girl did not pretend to herself that she could ascertain his meaning at all, so she decided instead to give in to picturesque tears; for Dan, for herself, for the world where such a thing could occur by a car as elegant and American-made as a Buick. 

The ambulance arrived later than she thought it should have, and Girl had never realized how hard it was to cradle a dying man in your lap while hugging Junior to your side, all in the middle of a street in your suburban development where only last week at the tenant's neighborhood watch meeting you had suggested that they install larger speed limit signs. 

"What happened, ma'am?" Chief EMT asked as they took Dry from her, and a trio of other EMTs began installing several IVs and other medical-looking paraphernalia on Dry. 

"It was a hit-and-run..." 

"Well," Chief EMT told her, "we'll take him for now, the blood makes it look worse than it is. Stay here. The police will want to interview you when they get here." 

"Looks like they were already here, Chief," one of the trio EMTs crossed over from Dry's gurney as they were loading it into the squad. Dry had not regained consciousness. 

"How's that?" Chief EMT asked, and in reply was shown Dan the Dry's wallet. 

Girl saw the same item as Chief EMT did. A badge--a shiny brass Metropolis Detective badge--clipped opposite a Police photo ID, its picture unmistakably of Dan the Dry, her Dry Cleaner. The engraved badge number was as clear to her as day, 2-5-3-6, the same number of the dollar amount Dan had been charging her for dry cleaning for nearly as long as she could remember. It had always seemed high for only a pair of shirts or a couple of slacks without special needs. 

"I need to--" she forced Junior into Chief EMT's arms, put her hand to her head. The number 2-5-3-6 was etched to the inside of her lids, and they wanted to close so she could see it again. "I need to call my mother." And with that, she fainted. 

. 

_...to be continued..._

. 

* * *

**Disclaimer:** This fiction is intended as parody only; the characters, plot, etc., are the intellectual property of its authors. This story is not in **any way** affiliated with the Lifetime Channel, Lifetime Television, or the Lifetime Original Movie franchise. 

* * *

by: Neftzer and friends (AAB, TRVMB, JMG, KLS) (c)2003  
_Feedback Appreciated!_  
Check out royaltoby.com / shack for Neftzer's OutBack Fiction Shack 


	14. Enter the Sassy

by: TRVMB 

"Miss?  Miss?  Are you OK?" 

_2-5-3-6, 2-5-3-6..._

"Miss!  I need you to sit up for me!" 

_2-5-3-6... _

"OK, I'm going to check her vitals." 

Pretty Wife struggles to open her eyes.  She feels a blood pressure cuff tightening around her now-bare arm.  "Wha...  Where..." 

"She's coming to!!  It's OK, Miss, just sit tight.  We're here to help." 

Pretty Wife realizes that she is lying in the street in the front of her home (which is neatly positioned within a lovely development).  Chief EMT is kneeled over her, shining a light into her eyes, allegedly checking the dilation of her pupils.  The smell of deep-fried fish and onion rings is fresh on his breath.  Pretty Wife struggles against him. 

"I'm going to need you to sit still, ma'am," he breathes. 

Pretty Wife makes every attempt to respirate through her mouth while stuttering, "I'm OK, I'm OK.  Just give me a minute."  She sits up, puts her head between her knees, and tries to remember exactly what is going on. _OK, Dan the Dry...  He was just here...  He was telling me.... _

"Dan the Dry!  Where is he?" Pretty Wife asks Chief EMT. 

"He's on his way to Our Lady of Mercy, ma'am.  He's still unconscious, and he's lost a lot of blood.  But he's in good hands.  Don't you worry 'bout him, we need to make sure you're OK." 

"I'm fine."  Pretty Wife stands up, only too late realizing that her shirt had been removed.  She threw her arms around her unusually robust, buxom bosom and asked, "My shirt?" 

"We had to rid you of that, ma'am.  Had to make sure your vitals were OK, and that your breathing wasn't restricted." 

As if Pretty Wife hadn't heard THAT line before.  She grabbed her shirt and jacket and began to redress.  Just as she was zipping her Versace, mink-lined all-Italian leather coat, Rebecca from Phil's Diner came sprinting up to her.  With all the commotion, she had completely forgotten that Rebecca was on her way for a strategy session. 

"P.W.!  Are you OK?  What the H-E-Double Hockeysticks happened here?" Rebecca wasn't known for her charm, nor her manners. 

"Oh, Rebecca, thank heavens you're here!  You won't believe what just happened.  Dan the Dry.  He's been hit by an American-made blue Buick, which in turn simply drove away and left him here to die!" 

"Mother freaker." 

"I know.  He's been taken to Our Lady of Mercy, and he's unconscious. Rebecca, he was in the middle of telling me something.  Something that sounded important.  Something about....  Stranger." 

"Holy excrement." 

"This makes everything seem so...  Suspicious.  I'm going to need you now more than ever.  I'm going to the hospital--if Dan the Dry awakes from his coma-like state anytime soon, I want to be there.  Every moment counts, and his next words could be his last.  Coming with?" 

"You bet your donkey." 

Pretty Wife handed Junior (who had made it through the entire ordeal remarkably unscathed) over to Old Neighbor, and she and Rebecca climbed into her sensible vehicle and drove away from the scene of the accident. As they headed towards Our Lady of Mercy, a plan began to unfold.... 

. 

_...to be continued..._

. 

* * *

**Disclaimer:** This fiction is intended as parody only; the characters, plot, etc., are the intellectual property of its authors. This story is not in **any way** affiliated with the Lifetime Channel, Lifetime Television, or the Lifetime Original Movie franchise. 

* * *

by: Neftzer and friends (AAB, TRVMB, JMG, KLS) (c)2003  
_Feedback Appreciated!_  
Check out royaltoby.com / shack for Neftzer's OutBack Fiction Shack 


	15. Stranger than Stranger

by: KLS 

On the way over to the hospital, Girl filled Rebecca the Sassy Waitress in on what had happened.  They also talked about their feelings, and how they felt about those feelings, their husbands and how sometimes they didn't know how they put up with them, and then Girl talked about a pair of shoes she found on sale at Incredibly Expensive Italian Yuppie Shoes just this last week! 

Girl knew she needed to talk to Dan the Dry, but now she wasn't sure if it was wise to be seen talking to him.  It had to mean something that a late-model blue Buick had try to run him over, didn't it? 

"Yes, I think that means something," Rebecca the Sassy Waitress said.  "You hear about these things happening all the time, but usually it's in Big City.  And it's never good.  I mean, if I've learned one thing in my hard-working life it's that HIT-AND-RUN-ATTEMPTED-MURDER doesn't end well." 

"A little optimism, here," Girl said to Rebecca the Sassy as they entered the hospital.  Girl volunteered regularly brightening up the day of old people and young children so she knew how to find out where Dan the Dry was and how to avoid nurses stations.  Unfortunately, it also meant that she might run into someone she knew.  They needed to blend in. 

Girl pulled Rebecca the Sassy into a nearby linen closet and donned Candy Striper aprons. 

"I was a candy striper when I was 15.  I volunteered with this kid, oh man, he was yummy.  He was doing community service for vandalism or something.  A real bad-boy.  You know the type?  We'd make-out in the janitor's closet. It always had that disinfectant smell." 

"That's a great story, Rebecca the Sassy, but now is not the time."  Girl tied Rebecca the Sassy's apron.  Girl peered out of the linen closet. "Here, take this stack of towels.  Stand watch while I sneak over to Dan the Dry's bed.  I'll pull the curtain around and you stand look-out, without looking too obvious.  Do you think you can manage that?  If you see the cops or doctors or anything suspicious, just make a bird sound, like _KaKaw, KaKaw_." 

Rebecca the Sassy looked at Girl disbelievingly.  "KaKaw?" 

"It'll work, trust me.  It always works." 

"I should've just stayed at work," Rebecca the Sassy said before walking down the hallway with her towels in her arms. 

Girl waited for what seemed like an eternity.  If she was caught, she would just play dumb.  She was a pretty-suburban-wife, no one would suspect her.  

She walked down the hallway in the ER; she found Dan the Dry's room easily, because it's just that easy to find things in a big hospital, and ducked into the room that he shared with three other patients.  She pulled back the curtain and pulled it around her again. 

Dan the Dry was in bad shape.  Tubes were coming out of him.  His face was pale, his nose was bandaged.  There was a bandage around his head, his blond tipped hair smushed to his head.  She tenderly touched his hair, looking thoughtful for a moment as the light shone softly on her face. 

"Dan the Dry," she whispered.  "Dan the Dry," she said louder.  But there was no response.  She didn't know what to do next.  She hadn't really thought about a contingency plan.  

Dan the Dry just needed to wake up!  She knew that SOMETHING was going on, but she didn't know what.  Something to do with Consolation Husband and Stranger, but what was the connection?  Is it possible that dear departed dead boy wasn't dead after all? Dan the Dry knew the answers!  She touched his arm, and at the same moment, someone grabbed her from behind.  A rough hand covered her mouth as she struggled.  She was pulled against a body, hard like a wall, and dragged backwards.  In the distance she heard Rebecca the Sassy--louder than usual; "Oh, I must've gotten off on the wrong floor!  KaKaw, KaKaw!  I'm not usually in the ER."  And then she heard the whisper of scrubs walking hurriedly down the hallway towards her.  Someone was coming!  She'd be discovered, but then she would also be able to escape from whomever had her in his clutches! 

Girl struggled and stomped on the Unknown Assailant's foot.  Unknown Assailant grunted but didn't let go of Girl.  He said menacingly, through gritted teeth, "Don't move.  Don't say a word." 

. 

_...to be continued..._

. 

* * *

**Disclaimer:** This fiction is intended as parody only; the characters, plot, etc., are the intellectual property of its authors. This story is not in **any way** affiliated with the Lifetime Channel, Lifetime Television, or the Lifetime Original Movie franchise. 

* * *

by: Neftzer and friends (AAB, TRVMB, JMG, KLS) (c)2003  
_Feedback Appreciated!_  
Check out royaltoby.com / shack for Neftzer's OutBack Fiction Shack 


	16. Terms of Endangerment

by: AAB 

Previously on A STRANGER IN TOWN...AAB foolishly agreed to write Part Sixteen and TRVMB, slowly descending into madness, and then not so slowly, made a series of bizarre, threatening voice mails of portents to come if Part Sixteen was not delivered soon. And now, the wet-noodle conclusion of Part Fifteen... 

---- 

"Rebecca?" Pretty Wife called out, struggling through a fog-like haze of unconsciousness. 

"Darling, Honeybear, Love," she heard Consolation Husband respond, and a deep frown line creased her brow. 

"Who's Rebecca?" he asked, as she opened her eyes. 

"Where am I?" 

"You're at Our Lady of Mercy, someone called and told me you'd been involved in an accident, My Heart." 

"Yes," she remembered that. "Dan was--oh, gosh, how long has it been?" When C.H. looked at her so tenderly it was almost hard to remember that she was supposed to be suspicious of him. 

"All night. I've been here all night." Seeing her concern he added, "I had to leave Junior with Old Neighbor, but he's fine." She was not immediately concerned about Baby Heir, but was glad to hear that he was taken care of and off her mind for the moment. 

"And we can postpone resurfacing the floor in the study, Darling--it'll keep." 

He always had her best interest in mind. She wondered if it had all been a dream--ever since that dinner with Guest so few days ago--a long nightmare, ended now. 

"Who's Dan," C.H. asked, and there was a hard edge to his voice. 

"Dan, the Dry--Dry Cleaner, he was coming over and then--" 

The hard edge to his voice became sharp, and there were no tender nicknames for her any longer, "You were meeting with the Dry Cleaner--do they offer door-to-door service now? What's going on?" 

"Nothing," she said. "I don't--I don't think I'm remembering things rightly." She lied and touched her fingers delicately to the bandage on her head. 

C.H. reverted to cooing mode, assuring her that it would all come back in time and they would talk about it then, and she let him collect her into his arms. In the embrace, his back was to the door into the room, but she could see out. She dreaded when the moment came when they would have to talk about Dan, innocent, generous Dan--she let out a little sob and squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them again she saw a figure in the doorway. Blinking back the tears, her vision improved and the figure coalesced into Deadboy Stranger. He held a giant bouquet of flowers in one hand, a box of chocolates in the other, as though he were headed out on a first date in the year 1952.. 

She stared at him from her place in C.H.'s embrace and he stared back, frozen in the doorway. 

In the background a doctor was paged on the overhead, breaking the moment, and Stranger cleared his throat and apologized in a deep voice, "sorry--wrong room." 

He was gone before Consolation Husband had a chance to turn around and see who was there. 

. 

_...to be continued..._

. 

* * *

**Disclaimer:** This fiction is intended as parody only; the characters, plot, etc., are the intellectual property of its authors. This story is not in **any way** affiliated with the Lifetime Channel, Lifetime Television, or the Lifetime Original Movie franchise. 

* * *

by: Neftzer and friends (AAB, TRVMB, JMG, KLS) (c)2003  
_Feedback Appreciated!_  
Check out royaltoby.com / shack for Neftzer's OutBack Fiction Shack 


	17. A dingo in a Blue Buick ate your baby

by: TRVMB 

The on-call staff at Our Lady of Mercy kept Pretty Wife overnight and released her the next morning into the care of Consolation Husband.  Pretty Wife never laid an eye on either Dan the Dry nor Rebecca the Sassy during her stay, and she attempted to mask her concern as Consolation Husband drove her home in their sensible vehicle--all the way back to their house that was neatly positioned within a lovely development. 

"You go ahead and try to get some rest, Love.  You've been through quite a lot in the last couple of days.  I'll go over the Old Neighbor's to pick up Junior, and I'll care for him for the afternoon.  We'll stay in the east wing of the house so we don't disturb you."  Consolation Husband kissed Pretty Wife on the forehead condescendingly and exited. 

But Girl was too exhausted to argue.  She retreated into the bedroom and collapsed onto the bed.  As she drifted into a restless sleep, her thoughts and dreams continued to revert back to Dan the Dry and Rebecca the Sassy. What exactly had happened at Our Lady of Mercy?  She remembered something about Rebecca standing watch, looking for Dan the Dry... 

"Oh, what's the use?" Girl thinks to herself, sitting up on the king-sized, down-quilted mattress.  "There's no way I'll be able to get to sleep, particularly when I'm staring up at the ceiling and noticing that this crown moulding desperately needs replacement!"  She exits the bedroom and makes her way to the east wing.  Perhaps seeing Junior would make her feel better, useful, purposed. 

But Consolation Husband and Baby Heir were nowhere to be found.  Just as Girl was about to draw herself a nice bubble bath, C.H. came crashing through the front door. "Cuddle Pie!  Junior has been kidnapped!" 

Pretty Wife fell to her knees.  She was having a rough week. 

"What?!  Wha...  Who... What happened?!" 

"Old Neighbor said that a woman broke into his home, cursing and yelling something about drycleaning, or the drycleaners...  He wasn't sure.  Old Neighbor said she then ran out the door, clutching Junior under one arm, and drove off." 

"Did he see the vehicle?  Did he get the plate numbers?  Did he call the police?!" 

"Yes.  Sergeant McCoy with the Town Falls Police Department is on his way to talk to us now, in fact.  Old Neighbor didn't get the plate numbers, but said she was driving a late model, blue Buick.  He said the front had been damaged, like maybe it had hit a telephone pole." 

"Or a Drycleaner..."  Pretty Wife thought to herself.  She carried her weak-kneed, nauseous self over to the La-Z-Boy and sat down, her mind spinning.  What in the world was happening in her once seemingly peaceful, serene, perfect life? "Did Old Neighbor say anything else?" 

"Yes.  He said that it looked like there was someone in the back seat of the Buick, but he couldn't see the person's face.  He wasn't sure if it was an accomplice, or another kidnapping victim, because the person was slumped over, and the head was all bandaged." 

_Uh oh. _

"Oh, and the madwoman driving was wearing a candystriper apron." 

. 

_...to be continued..._

. 

* * *

**Disclaimer:** This fiction is intended as parody only; the characters, plot, etc., are the intellectual property of its authors. This story is not in **any way** affiliated with the Lifetime Channel, Lifetime Television, or the Lifetime Original Movie franchise. 

* * *

by: Neftzer and friends (AAB, TRVMB, JMG, KLS) (c)2003  
_Feedback Appreciated!_  
Check out royaltoby.com / shack for Neftzer's OutBack Fiction Shack 


	18. The Freedom of a Jean Jumpsuit

by: KLS 

Pretty Wife just blinked at Consolation Husband, trying to put together the course of events over the last few days. Was it just yesterday that she thought she saw dear departed dead boy in town, then he was at her front door for dinner, then maybe threatening her in the car, then that whole thing with Dan the Dry at the Drycleaners, and then he had wanted to tell her something, but then a late model Buick mowed him down, possibly the same late model Buick that drove away with Baby Heir? 

Of course, there was a whole block of time unaccounted for in the hospital when she had tried to speak to Dan the Dry. She seemed to remember that someone had grabbed her. And hadn't she seen Stranger at the hospital? Had he been there to see her? 

Consolation Husband, apparently thinking that Pretty Wife had become unhinged, commenced to pat her on the shoulder and then guide her back into the bedroom. "Don't you worry, Pretty Wife, my darling sweetheart. You just rest, and I will find Baby Heir. I'm sure he's fine, even though I don't know what he was doing separated from his mother. That's your only job, to look after him--and look what happened. But I'll take care of it. Just like I took care of that crab grass problem we had last year." 

Pretty Wife let Consolation Husband put her to bed. This _was_ all her fault. She had given Baby Heir to Old Neighbor to watch. She was Baby Heir's mother. But she had pushed him off onto decrepit Old Neighbor, as though she were loaning out her sensible car. 

Consolation Husband was shaking out a couple of Valium into her hand. "Take these, dear overwrought wife. You'll feel better." 

But Pretty Wife didn't feel overwrought. In fact, she realized, she trusted Rebecca the Sassy more than she did Consolation Husband. Because she suddenly remembered something about the night before at the hospital. The man who had pulled her away from Dan had been wearing a familiar cologne: Eau De Sinister Secrets. Consolation Husband's cologne. He was the man! And, as though a switch had been thrown in her brain, she knew exactly where Rebecca the Sassy had taken Baby Heir. 

So she took the Valium and pretended to swallow them, but instead held them under her tongue. 

Consolation Husband patted her hand a few times and then left the room. Pretty Wife spit out the pills and waited. She was patient. 

After awhile, when the light had waned in the room, she crept to the door and listened. Nothing. She changed quickly into sensible shoes and a clandestine jean-jumpsuit outfit with a dark scarf belt, that she retrieved from the customized scarf hanger, tied jauntily around her slim waist. At the top of the stairs, she heard Consolation Husband yelling at someone over the phone. 

"Baby Heir wasn't supposed to be part of this! I want to know what you're going to do about it!" 

Pretty Wife noticed that Consolation Husband was using his business tone. This is how he would speak to people when he was dissatisfied with their service. It made her shudder. 

She crept down the stairs, grabbed the spare set of keys to the sensible car and walked out the front door feeling freer than she had for years. She pulled out of the drive quickly, and drove through her quiet neighborhood, launching over speedbumps. Turning the corner she headed towards Small Town. 

. 

_...to be continued..._

. 

* * *

**Disclaimer:** This fiction is intended as parody only; the characters, plot, etc., are the intellectual property of its authors. This story is not in **any way** affiliated with the Lifetime Channel, Lifetime Television, or the Lifetime Original Movie franchise. 

* * *

by: Neftzer and friends (AAB, TRVMB, JMG, KLS) (c)2003  
_Feedback Appreciated!_  
Check out royaltoby.com / shack for Neftzer's OutBack Fiction Shack 


	19. Two Part 17s do not make 19

by: AAB 

Part 18: _The Missing Link: Two Seventeens Do Not Make Nineteen _

Previously on ASiT: We discovered a part was missing. We found that part. It wasn't so great, so we burned it and wrote another. Here it is, after the wait. 

"How do you feel, there, Detective?" 

Dan the Dry opened his eyes, expecting to view the ethereal beauty of Pretty Wife as he had last seen her in Cozy Development near Cul-De-Sac, where that late model blue, beautiful testament to American engineering--that Buick--had so callously mown him down. But Pretty Wife and Cul-de-Sac--the outdoors entirely--were nowhere to be seen. 

Instead his eyes came to rest on Dad--not his dad, surely, but the man in charge of their operation, known to all simply as "Dad," short for "Detective Agent Dragnet," the man in charge of the operation to which he, Dan the Dry was assigned. 

"I feel a little lost," Dan answered. "Like someone could skip entirely over this part of my life without consequence, and come back to it later--and even then it might not prove interesting, or even necessarily germane to forward plot motion. Also, my head hurts." 

"Hmm," the older man seemed to consider this admission for a moment, then helped Dan prop himself up and take a drink. "Have some of this, Dry. You'll feel better in no time at all. Ready to shoot the moon--or this rotten meat known as 'C.H.' that we've been on the trail of for so long, yet have only recently come close enough to actually put our hands on, primarily through the deft work of yourself and Detective Sassy." 

"Thanks for the sum-up, Chief," Dan said graciously, "this large gauze bandage on my head was obscuring some of my short-term recall." 

The older man known as Dad sniffed. "My boy, that large, nearly comical, poorly wrapped head bandage of yours has been obscuring a lot of things over the past 48 hours for those of us investigating this case." He cleared his throat, hesitant, as always, to mix emotion--even for a fallen, or at least tripped, colleague with business. Looking at the Dry he couldn't help but think of Detective Stranger Dinner Guest, and a 6-year-old car crash, and whether the decision he had so resolutely made that night, to wash-out a bridge just outside of Smalltown, had been the right one. 

Det. Stranger had come out of that scrape with a head bandage of his own--and worse (or better, depending on how you thought about it)-- amnesia. Amnesia that not only made Det. Stranger forget his new pre-honeymoon wife, but also his father--this man, known to all as the mysterious "D-A-D," who had sacrificed _both_ his children in one night, in an effort to save them from each other, his past life from the knowledge of his present, his first wife from the knowledge of his second, his son from the knowledge that he had nearly consummated a marriage with his own half-sister. And now he, "Dad," worked toward a new goal, thinking it was a small price to pay, his son's estrangement from him, if it could protect his daughter at this time and somehow save her from the unknown mistake her second marriage had been as well. 

Disappearing was never easy, though all those years ago it had been the right choice, he told himself. It was only that disappearing was so messy, because without him around it seemed that no one knew how to behave, or how to make well-reasoned decisions. 

And here he was, as always, anonymously cleaning up the mess the others left behind. The door creaked open behind him, where he had been caught in a reverie, looking out through the drawn drapes, and Det. Stranger entered. "How's it going, Dry?" Stranger asked. 

"He'll be fine," Dad interrupted, perhaps too aggressively. "I nursed you back just fine, Stranger, didn't I?" 

"Good as new, Dad," Stranger agreed. "Good as new." Dad's heart wrenched at the way Stranger addressed him. His son could never know that his own head injury had been so much worse, its side-effect of amnesia both a blessing and a heartbreak. And his condition exploited by the man he should call father, as should his half-sister/forgotten-wife. 

"Well, boys," Dad addressed them both, "let's see Det. Dry here gets some rest before Det. Sassy gets back from getting us all some coffee at the 7-11. We've got some corruption to expose, and we're gonna need all our strength to bust open a can on C.H." 

. 

_...to be continued..._

. 

* * *

**Disclaimer:** This fiction is intended as parody only; the characters, plot, etc., are the intellectual property of its authors. This story is not in **any way** affiliated with the Lifetime Channel, Lifetime Television, or the Lifetime Original Movie franchise. 

* * *

by: Neftzer and friends (AAB, TRVMB, JMG, KLS) (c)2003  
_Feedback Appreciated!_  
Check out royaltoby.com / shack for Neftzer's OutBack Fiction Shack 


	20. And You Thought It Was Good Before We St...

_[Editor's Note: It is here, in Part Twenty, where the List unofficially begins to insert random lyrics from Hank Williams (Sr.) songs. So that the uninitiated reader can enjoy, I will bold the lyrics where they appear, and include their corresponding song titles in the section-ending disclaimer(s).]_

by: TRVMB 

Pretty Wife's mind was racing as she pulled into Rebecca the Sassy's driveway.  She wasn't sure what was going on, or what to expect, but she knew that Rebecca had taken Junior/Baby Heir, and he was her main concern. As she stepped out of her sensible vehicle, she flung her pursestrap over her shoulder, pushed her hand into her purse, and wrapped her fingers around her trusty can of Mace.  She needed to be prepared, and if Rebecca the Sassy wanted to fight, then Pretty Wife was going to give her a run for her money. 

The front door opened as Pretty Wife approached.  Rebecca the Sassy, with Junior on her hip, ushered her into the house.  Pretty Wife entered, her hand still clinging to the mace.  She needed to be careful in her approach, so as not to endanger Baby Heir. 

"What the freak are you doing here?  Do you have any freaking idea how dangerous this is?  Did anyone see you?"  Rebecca whispered, shutting the door. 

"What do you mean?  And what the H-E-Double Hockeysticks are you doing with my son?" Pretty Wife responded.  She wasn't afraid to talk like a sailor, either, when the occasion arose. 

"I know how this looks, P.W., and I'd be just as upset as you are right now if someone ever took my baby, LeRoy, like I had to take Junior.  But you have to trust me--he was in danger.  With Consolation Husband at your side during your hospital stay, there was no way I could explain all this to you.  So I did what I had to do to keep your son safe." 

"What are you talking about?  Give me my son," Pretty Wife demanded, reaching for Baby Heir. 

Rebecca the Sassy stepped out of her reach.  "I will, P.W., I will.  But first, I need you to sit down and listen to what I have to say.  Everything you've come to know as the truth is a lie." 

Pretty Wife stumbled into Rebecca the Sassy's humble living room and sat down on a well-worn ottoman.  Her purse and Mace forgotten, she stammered, "Please, Rebecca the Sassy, please tell me what is going on.  My world has been turned upside down within the last week, ever since Stranger appeared. I can't help but think there must be some sort of a connection.  Please... Tell me everything you know." 

Seeing that Pretty Wife was being receptive, Rebecca the Sassy sat Baby Heir down on the floor.  He immediately crawled over to his mother, and she picked him up and sat him in her lap.  Rebecca the Sassy seated herself on her circa 1976, brown and lime-green plaid couch, and began to speak. "P.W., you've got to be confused by now.  Anyone would be.  But believe me when I say that Consolation Husband is not to be trusted.  He is involved in a scheme that is more far-reaching than you can imagine.  The FBI has been probing into his activities for years now, long before you and Junior were in the picture." 

Pretty Wife could not believe her ears.  What was this woman saying to her? Could this be true of Consolation Husband, the man to whom she'd given her heart, the man with whom she had borne a son, the man who had supported her financially, if not emotionally, all this time? 

"I know it sounds outrageous.  That's why we've kept it from you for so long.  We didn't want to frighten you, or to jeopardize our investigation." 

"What?!  Who is "we"?  Who are you, Rebecca the Sassy?  Do I even know you? Do I know ANYONE?!"  Pretty Wife began to sob, and reached into her purse for a Puffs Plus. 

"I am your friend, P.W.  But I also work for the FBI.  I've been posing as a waitress at Phil's Diner, just like Dan the Dry has been posing as a drycleaner."  Before Rebecca the Sassy could even finish the sentence, Dan the Dry entered the living room from a bedroom in the back of the house. His head was bandaged, but other than that, he looked pretty well, considering he had been hit by an American-made blue Buick just days before.  He winked at Pretty Wife and smiled a dimply smile, sitting down on the couch by Rebecca the Sassy. 

"This doesn't make any sense, Rebecca the Sassy.  How could you two be working for the FBI together, when you so clearly were the one who hit Dan the Dry in front of my home, which is neatly positioned within a lovely development?" Pretty Wife understandably questioned. 

"It wasn't Rebecca the Sassy who hit me with the blue Buick, Pretty Wife," Dan the Dry cooed.  "Someone used her vehicle to commit that crime.  Which is why we have to act now--it seems that they are onto us.  And we're going to need your help to seal this case air-tight.  How do you feel about that?" 

Pretty Wife wasn't sure how she felt about anything--much less sealing deals at a time like this.  She was numb from the top of her well-coiffed head to the tip of her polished toenails.  She held Junior tightly as she stammered, "Tell me everything." 

"Well, we thought we'd let your father explain it all to you, Pretty Wife," said Rebecca the Sassy. 

"My father?  My father is dead.  He was killed when I was three years old, in a freak craft-show accident.  I thought you worked for the FBI--shouldn't you know that?"  Pretty Wife was on the edge, and for her, that meant sarcasm. 

"Pretty Wife, you don't know?  Your mother never told you, after all these years?  Your father is alive and well," Dan the Dry said softly, walking over to Pretty Wife as she trembled on the well-worn ottoman.  He put his strong, virile arm around her, as she clung to him and began to sob into his muscled, hairless chest.  _How many secrets had been kept from her?  Why would her mother keep her from her father all her life?  What was going on? And why, oh why, did Dan the Dry have to be so darn chiseled and good-smelling?_

"You've never before met your father?"  Rebecca the Sassy asked.  "Well, honey, **comb your hair and paint and powder**-- you're meeting him today. He'll answer all your questions." 

* * *

DISCLAIMER: This is entirely a work of parody and satirical fiction, and claims no affiliation with the Lifetime Network and remains the exclusive intellectual property of its respective authors at MBTV4Supalazy; AAB, TRVMB, JMG, and KLS. Posted by Neftzer (c) 2003 

**Hank Williams lyric from "Settin' the Woods on Fire"**


	21. Honestly, I Forgot What I Was Going to T...

by: KLS 

_Previously on ASiT_:  Pretty Wife snuck out of her luxurious but tasteful house to drive to Rebecca the Sassy's house where RtS was holding Junior for his own safety, allegedly.  We also learned that incest is bad, and Stranger is allegedly Pretty Wife's husband AND half-brother.  The accident that changed P.W's life forever was caused by P.W.'s presumed dead father.  And P.W. was going to meet her father for the very first time.  Dan the Dry, still alive. 

* * *

Pretty Wife couldn't do much but stare as a man that Rebecca the Sassy was calling her dead father entered the room. 

"Pretty Wife," presumed dead Dad said as he walked towards PW.  

Sassy and Dan the Dry just stood beaming as though watching this special reunion reaffirmed everything about their lives.  

Pretty Wife stumbled to stand and backed away.  She held Junior close. "Don't come any closer.  You stay away from me.  Now, I want someone to explain what's going on."  Everything was so convoluted.  The past few days had just been a tangle of twists and turns, identities revealed and secrets kept.  Pretty Wife couldn't keep up with it all.  Pretty Wife, of course, had her own secrets.  About a night, a drive, a bridge, and a man who wasn't her husband. 

Sassy reached her arm out towards Pretty Wife, but Pretty Wife jerked it away.  "We understand P.W." the Sassy said reassuringly.  "This must be very difficult for you.  I think I have some nice colorful graphs from our police meeting last week." 

"When's the last time you had something to eat?" Dan the Dry asked, bandaged but still looking like a manly piece of man-flesh.  

Pretty Wife shook her head.  She felt like she was on the verge of losing it and at any moment she would just run screaming from the house.  As tempting as that was, she needed to think of Junior.  Having a crazy mother was just not good for a child's development.  That's what all the books told her. 

"I think the Sassy has some leftovers from the diner in the kitchen," Dan the Dry said, leaving Pretty Wife alone with presumed dead Dad. 

"Is that my grandson?" presumed dead Dad said gruffly, as though he were about to cry--because even a tough-cop from New York can get choked up about his grandchildren.  

"He's my son.  Mine.  I don't know who you are.  You can't be my father.  My father wouldn't leave me and my mother all alone."  Pretty Wife stroked the hair on Junior's head.  

Dan the Dry came in with a sandwich and chips on a plate.  "Eat this, Pretty Wife.  You need to keep up your strength.  For Junior."  

Pretty Wife looked at him.  

"Here, I'll take him.  It's okay."  

Pretty Wife relinquished Junior to the strong and stable arms of Dan the Dry and sat down to eat.  She stared at him approvingly.  She would need to find a father for Junior after all this was over, seeing as CH was unfit due to his criminal tendencies. At least, that's if these people were to be believed. 

Rebecca the Sassy set up the four-color "Time-Line Flow Chart of Full Disclosure" on an easel in her living room. 

With Junior on his hip, Dan the Dry began to explain.  "We've been investigating Consolation Husband for three years."  He pointed to the chart and followed the jagged lines up and down as he spoke.  "Ever since the announcement of your engagement appeared in the society page of Town Falls. We knew that he had to be up to something, and that maybe we'd be able to get some hard evidence." 

"Maybe it wasn't criminal.  Maybe he loved me," Pretty Wife said with her mouth full. 

Dan the Dry continued, "You are the sole benefactor of the controlling interests of Big Business Competitor in the Big City.  CH has been after this company for years.  Now, married to you, he may get control, and with the technology of Big Business there will be no stopping him." 

"Except he's gotten sloppy," presumed dead Dad interrupted.  "He's left a trail of bodies that leads right to his front door." 

"Everything clear?" Rebecca the Sassy asked, putting away the visual aid. 

"What's he have to do with it?"  Pretty Wife said, pointing to presumed dead Dad. 

And then her father told her everything from Part Eighteen.  About his other life, about dear departed dead boy being her half-brother and how presumed dead dad would've done anything to prevent their union--and did. 

"So I wasn't imagining it, Stranger IS dear departed dead boy," Pretty Wife said.  "And you caused the accident?" 

Presumed Dead Dad nodded his head.  "But he remembers nothing of that life. Of me." 

Pretty Wife stood dramatically.  "Oh, no.  How could you?  How could you have done something like that?" 

Presumed Dead Dad wasn't quite sure which one of the horrible things he was supposed to have done she was referring to, so he kept his mouth shut. 

"Don't you get it?" PW shrieked. "I was with Dear Departed Dead Boy.  I _wasn't_ in the car with my husband!" 

* * *

DISCLAIMER: This is entirely a work of parody and satirical fiction, and claims no affiliation with the Lifetime Network and remains the exclusive intellectual property of its respective authors at MBTV4Supalazy; AAB, TRVMB, JMG, and KLS. Posted by Neftzer (c) 2003 

**As this portion was written by KLS, there are no Hank Williams lyrics.**


	22. Whole Lotta Stranger Going On

by: TRVMB 

Previously on "Stranger..."   
Pretty Wife, as she was in the process of sneaking out of the house to retrieve Baby Uber Heir Junior from the at-the-time seemingly seedy Rebecca the Sassy, overheard Consolation Husband on the phone, exclaiming in a business-like tone: "Baby Heir wasn't supposed to be part of this!  I want to know what you're going to do about it!"   
And now, as Pretty Wife, Junior, Detective the Dry, Detective the Sassy, Detective Stranger, and D.A.D. attempt to assemble the puzzle of their combined pasts, we rejoin Consolation Husband at the house, as he continues his telephone conversation, blissfully unaware that his Pretty Wife has left the building-- 

"Don't you tell me to calm down.  I will NOT calm down until my son is returned to me.  McCoy, let me tell you something, here.  Whoever has my son is onto me.  Onto _us_." 

On the other end of the line, Sergeant McCoy of the Town Falls Police Department cleared his throat and adjusted his tie.  "C.H., I don't think it's a great idea for us to discuss this matter over the phone." 

"And why is that, McCoy?  Are you afraid?  Afraid that whomever has my son also knows that you are involved?  That you have been assisting me in funneling funds from Big Business Competitor in Big City directly into a secret fund for The Cause?  For the Society For the Advancement of Biogenetically Engineered Perfection?" 

"C.H., I think you should..." 

"Should what, McCoy?  Shut up?  And why is that?  Do you fear that your cover will be blown?  Do you really think people are buying your Barney Fife act, McCoy?" 

"They are buying it about as much as they're buying your banker act, C.H. All those innocent people coming to you at Town Falls Bank and Trust for investment advice on their IRAs and mutual funds, never even noticing when you skim a little off the top for your Cause.  And for yourself." 

"AND for you, McCoy.  Let us not forget THAT little piece of the pie." 

"I'm also sure you'd hate for anyone to find out that your 'son' is really SABEP's lame attempt at creating genetic perfection--and is no biological relation to either you OR to Pretty Wife." 

"I'm not going to forget that comment, McCoy.  I disclosed that information to you in confidence.  Don't you dare bring it up again.  That child may have been manufactured in a laboratory and surgically placed in my wife's womb after I secretly anesthetized her with ether that I strategically placed on her pillowcase, but he is still my son, he is still the closest thing on planet earth to human perfection, and he is _still_ missing." 

"Listen, C.H., I'm sorry.  Now is not the time for us to self-destruct and begin attacking each other.  What we need to do is tie up our loose ends and discuss our disappearance.  We've already said too much--let's make some plans to meet up and iron out the details." 

As Consolation Husband and Sergeant McCoy made their plans to convene, Detective Stranger listened in, recording it all.  C.H. and Sergeant McCoy wouldn't be the only ones in attendance at the upcoming gathering--he was sure that D.A.D. would see to that. 

* * *

by: JMG 

Previously, on _A Stranger in Town_...   
The mysterious D.A.D. reveals that he abandoned Pretty Wife and her mother to go raise another family, and that Deadboy Stranger was also his son - he washed out the bridge to keep them from unknowingly violating the laws of God and Nature by consummating their marriage.  PW gasps that she wasn't with her husband that night - she was with Deadboy! 

Pretty Wife's mind reeled, trying to put the pieces together.  DAD had made his own son into a Stranger, just to keep the half-siblings from getting to third base!  She had lost the greatest love of her life to a simple misunderstanding!  Didn't DAD realize that she had already been married to Consolation Husband at the time?  And even if she had taken off with Deadboy on her wedding night in a rare fit of defiant passion, she was still a married woman!  Why, what could DAD be thinking of her, assuming that she would let her fiery loins lead her into Sin, even with the most wonderful man she had ever known but unfortunately hadn't met until it was too late? 

[We see flashbacks from the beginning of the movie and realize that we never actually saw the groom's face - we were cleverly led astray by interspersed scenes of Girl stealing away with Deadboy!] 

"How could you have done such a heartless thing, D - A - D ?" exclaimed Pretty Wife, refusing even to use an acronym that sounded familial. "How could you think such things of your own son and...me...when you had to know we weren't even married!?!?!" 

DAD looked askance, obviously having never considered marriage as a factor that mattered one way or the other in any decision. When the lord made DAD, he made a rambling man. "Errr... Ummm..." Relief broke out on his face as his cell phone chimed and he excused himself to the next room. 

Pretty Wife sat, lost in her own thoughts.  Was she overreacting? How much of her anger was due to her own guilty thoughts?  Goodness knows there had been times - she blushed even now, remembering - when she had imagined seeing Deadboy in just his underpants.  What would have happened if they had had that one magic night together in the storm?  When she had woken up in the hospital with Consolation Husband at her side, he had been so kind and forgiving - he understood how new brides sometimes got "cold feet" and could become hysterical.  They were only women, after all, and they were supposed to behave irrationally from time to time.  Nobody but Mother had ever known there had been someone else in the car that night, and PW had never found the courage to confess her near-sin aloud. 

*** 

Dan the Dry watched the exchange between PW and DAD, keeping Junior quiet in the corner.  He couldn't help but admire PW's shining moral character, and the way that the very tips of her perfect ears turned pink with righteous indignation. Det. Deadboy had almost been a very lucky man.  But instead both he and PW had been betrayed by the one man who should have been there to protect them - their father.  In his own life, Mr. the Dry had been a great father to Dan, teaching him about football and surfing and how to be polite to the ladies so that they would let him have sex.  Dan realized that he had been very lucky, and that he had always taken his happy childhood for granted.  For an instant, he felt a pang of worry and regret, remembering an incident not so long ago from his own life... 

Young Detective the Dry had spent almost his whole career thus far assigned to one case - the long quest to bring down CH and his band of Evil Geneticist Bankers.  As a young officer, he had drawn his first assignment in the case because nobody else would take it.  The FBI had been investigating a certain genetics lab for some time, but they'd been unable to even gain admittance to the secure building.  Finally, they learned that the lab was looking for new donors of genetic material - handsome young men in perfect health and full of vigor.  Dan the Dry, with his natural fresh scent and perfect hairless chest, had been a shoe-in for acceptance.  He hadn't had any qualms at the time, feeling that any assignment where he could score a free copy of _Playboy_ was a-ok with him, but now that he was older and wiser, he started to wonder about the consequences of his actions. 

Looking at Junior playing happily in his lap, he considered for the first time the fact that he could have children out there that would be completely unknown to him.  Surely any children to come out of such an expensive lab would be placed in good homes, raised by a loving mother and father. Or a father and father, or mother and mother, or two fathers and a mother, or whatever. Dan the Dry was an open-minded fellow.  Exhausted from the most lengthy and intensive thought process he had attempted in months, Dan leaned back, content that things would sort themselves out in the end. They always did for Dan the Dry. 

*** 

"Hank?" queried the voice on the phone. 

"I told you NEVER to call me that!" snapped D.A.D. 

"Uh, sorry. Mr. Summers?" the voice responded. 

"NO NAMES. Especially over the phone!" seethed D.A.D. "What is it that is important enough to interrupt me?" 

* * *

by: TRVMB 

Pretty Wife sat at Headquarters, her mind racing, attempting to put together the pieces of what had transpired within the last few days.  Her "secret" hadn't really been a secret at all--now everyone knew that she had run off with Stranger on the night she wed Consolation Husband.  And "the accident" hadn't really been an accident--D.A.D. had orchestrated the entire thing.  All these years of wondering what had happened to Stranger on that night, questioning whether he had truly perished in the cold, murky waters underneath that washed-out bridge, pining for the True Love that was never to be, whilst pretending to be happily married to Consolation Husband... 

Deep down she had always known that C.H. was not the man to whom she should devote the rest of her life.  She knew that theirs was not an Everlasting Love, that he was not her Soulmate.  She knew, in her heart of hearts, that Consolation Husband was not the man he professed to be.  Why had she not listened to her heart before she pledged her life to this man?  And now there was Junior to think about.  Pretty Wife knew that the future held no rainbows nor sunny days for her crumbling family. 

"I've got to pull myself together," Pretty Wife whispered to herself, reaching into her purse for her compact and concealer.   Her mascara might have smudged, but her **hair was still curly and her eyes were still blue**; she was, after all, still Pretty Wife, and this was neither the time nor the place for wistful thinking and what-might-have-beens.  She patted on her concealer, re-applied her lipstick, and snapped her compact shut.  She was involved now, and she wanted, no, *needed* to do whatever she could to expose the truth about her Sinister Spouse. 

"Are you OK, P.W?" Detective the Dry entered the room, with Junior crawling directly behind.  Detective the Sassy, D.A.D., and Detective Stranger followed. 

"I'm fine, Detective the Dry," Pretty Wife responded.  "What's going on?" 

"I've brought you all here to give you a brief update on the status of our operation," D.A.D. explained.  "Detective Stranger just intercepted an interesting conversation between Consolation Husband and Sergeant McCoy with the Town Halls Police Department.  It would appear that McCoy is involved in C.H.'s covert activities." 

Pretty Wife gasped audibly.  How could this happen?  It was bad enough that her own husband was evil, but if one couldn't trust the members of one's own local police department, who could one trust? 

"McCoy and C.H. are planning to meet tomorrow evening to tie up their loose ends, and from what we've gathered, they are planning to vanish.  They revealed the time and place of the meeting, and we are working now to get the place wired and ready to record the goings-on.  But between now and then, we are going to need your help, Pretty Wife." 

"What makes you think I would want to help you, D-A-D?  Don't you think you have some explaining to do?  Where the H-E-Double Hockeysticks have you been all my life?  How dare you USE me like this?  Did you also plan my marriage to Consolation Husband, simply to further your investigation into his wicked ways?  Didn't plan for me to unknowingly fall in love with my own half-brother, though, did you, D-A-D?  Do you realize that I could have ended up on _The Jerry Springer Show_?  Had to take care of THAT one, eh?  A washed-out bridge certainly did the trick, didn't it?"  Pretty Wife continued to rage at D.A.D. until Detective the Dry swaggered over to her and wrapped her in his ample, muscled embrace. 

"This is hard, Pretty Wife," the Dry whispered softly into her ear.  

For a moment, Pretty Wife wondered if he was referring to her situation, or something ELSE. 

"You are confused, upset, and angry.  No one here faults you for that, P.W. But right now, we have to focus on our investigation.  You owe it to yourself and to your son to expose Consolation Husband for what he is--a lying, cheating, stealing, conniving, embezzling son-of-a-witch," Detective the Sassy spewed.  She had just been clued in by Detective Stranger regarding Consolation Husband's genetic engineering of Baby Heir, and she was having a hard time concealing her fury.  But now was not the time to reveal to Pretty Wife that Junior was an Uberbaby; they needed her cooperation. 

"You're right, Detective the Sassy," Pretty Wife relented.  "Tell me what to do." 

[**Hank Williams lyric from "Why Don't You Love Me Like You Used to Do"**] 

* * *

by: AAB 

"Well," Rebecca the Sassy pulled out a pie chart, coupled with a few VENN diagrams that she had hastily sketched onto 3x5 cards while she was waiting in line on her recent coffee run. "We've done some research." 

DAD and Det. Dry looked away, sheepishly. 

"That is, _I've_ done some research, and given the jealous nature of the venal man that you've unwittingly married, we figured you two've **got a license to fight**, so why not exploit that?" 

"Okay," said P.W., her mind elsewhere, examining the sturdy Berber at her feet. _Whatever happened to the simple elegance of hardwood floors?_

"We women know what evil lurks in the hearts of men, don't we, Honey?" Det. Sassy, knowing P.W. too well, tried to re-capture her interest. "Here's the ticket, the lynch-pin--" 

"Or key--" Dan the Dry interjected. 

"Or key," the Sassy begrudgingly agreed. "You, P.W., and Stranger, caught in a compromising position--as compromising as possible." Rebecca whipped out a filmy lace number that made P.W. blush (becomingly, thought the Dry). "It's all set up and ready to go, back at your house. After C.H. returns from his meeting with McCoy, we'll spring it on him." 

"It should be the push over the edge that we need--a domestic incidence of chaos that will finally send him over the edge, tempt him to become sloppy--possibly attempting murder--and expose him for what he is." 

"Mostly because we think it could take years to understand all the rigmarole about Big Corporation and the Banking Industry well enough to be able to level any charges against him on those accounts," explained DAD. 

"It's really not that diffi--"began Rebecca the Sassy, but was thrown a stern look from DAD that cut her off. "Years," she agreed, though hollowly. 

[**Hank Williams lyric from "Mind Your Own Business"**] 

*** 

Less than half and hour later, P.W. was ensconced in her own boudoir that she had shared so often with C.H., the man the government had sent her to betray today. Stranger was just in the bathroom beyond, getting himself ready. She wished someone had told her how far she was to let this go before--she did not like to think before what, so she thought about Junior. "Just lie still," she thought to herself, "and think of C.H.'s ire." 

Stranger was coming out now; he had only a black towel slung around his middle. "Let's do it," he said, and P.W. thought she noticed something different about him around the eyes, a softness in them now absent. 

P.W. sat up on the bed to get a better look at him, and her rising was met with an open-handed strike to the face so hard it sent her back down to the mattress. She gasped, and her hand went up to her cheekbone. Lightly complected, she felt a bruise brewing already. Her mind was so shocked she could process no other thought. 

Stranger climbed closer to her on the bed, grabbed her wrists and jerked her up. Through gritted teeth he spoke. "What do you think you're doing, you little tramp--agreeing to betray him like this?" 

* * *

by: KLS 

Dan the Dry sat in the surveillance van a block away from Pretty Wife's house; nicely situated in a quiet, suburban neighborhood.  He didn't like this.  Oh, he liked the well, manicured lawns and meticulously maintained gardens of the affluent subdivision.  He didn't like sending Pretty Wife back into that house with Stranger.  Something just wasn't right. 

"What do you think of all this?" Dan the Dry asked Rebecca the Sassy, as she crawled inside the van carrying two cups of coffee from the local beanery.  

"I think the blond tips work for you, although you could probably use a touch-up," Rebecca the Sassy answered, handing Dan the Dry a coffee cup. 

Dan the Dry tugged at his hair.  "No--_this_," Dan said, maintaining his use of ambiguous pronouns and refusing to use specific nouns, pointing to the Sophisticated Surveillance Equipment pointing towards Pretty Wife's house. 

"D.A.D always did have a flair for the dramatic.  But it seems solid. Anything going on?"  Rebecca the Sassy tapped the speakers with her sensibly trimmed fingernail. 

"Nope.  Not a peep."  _Maybe that's what was bothering him._

After Pretty Wife's revelation about that night, so long ago--about mistaken identities and washed out bridges--Dan the Dry had wanted to talk to Pretty Wife privately.  He had always wanted to talk with her privately, about more than just dry-cleaning and this mixed-up, crazy investigation.  But now there was something he needed to tell her.  But how could he tell her about something that he'd forgotten, something hazy, just out of his memory's reach. 

The only way to help her would be to remember.  He thought about how his life had changed irrevocably six years ago.  He had awoken in a hospital bed, his entire head bandaged.  There had been an accident.  He had been thrown through a windshield and drifted downstream for many miles before catching on some brush.  He had eventually been pulled in by a couple of drunken flyfishers. Every bone in his face had been broken, and he had needed emergency plastic surgery.  They had done the best they could, but the doctors warned, he wouldn't look like himself.  It didn't bother him because he couldn't remember what he looked like before.  He couldn't remember who he'd been, except that there had been this feeling that he had left someone behind, someone who had been frightened.  Was it just a coincidence that he had been compelled to take this case in Town Falls?  

Dan the Dry thought of Pretty Wife.  He thought about her dry cleaning.  And in a flash of revelation, he could remember a younger Pretty Wife, before the miracle of Baby Heir, her cheeks flushed much like they had been this afternoon.  They were in a car together and it was raining, the windshield wipers dramatically, ominously, picturesquely, clapping time.  _Could it be?_

"It's a trap," he said to Rebecca the Sassy, grabbing his gun with one hand and opening the van door with the other.  _He, Dan the Dry was Dear Departed Dead Boy!  Pretty Wife was the lost love of his life!  But then, who was Stranger?_  Dan the Dry kicked down the front door in a manly display of violence and possessiveness.  She was _his_ Pretty Wife!    He heard a crash from an authentic Chinese vase, and the sound of a struggle, and thundered up the stairs to the rescue.  But as he reached the landing, he was thrown against the wall.  He looked around dumbfounded, trying to determine the unseen force that had stopped his gallant rescue.  Then he saw a blood soak through his newly drycleaned and pressed shirt.  He slid dramatically down the wall, his long, muscular legs, toned from the many miles that he ran every day to keep fit, sprawled in front of him. 

D.A.D emerged from the spare bedroom--that at one time Pretty Wife had envisioned turning into another bedroom for Baby Spare Heir, before her life fell apart in the course of a few days--and stepped over Dan the Dry's legs. 

"I'm sorry the Dry," D.A.D said, all evil-like.  "But you can't pick up your drycleaning without a ticket." 

* * *

by: AAB 

Previously on A STRANGER IN TOWN: Part 25, we are relying entirely on our own excellent recall, and the recall of the other Supalazy subscribers as we have deleted PART 25 from our in-box.   
What is important to know is listed, as follows:   
1 - D.A.D may be eeeevil.   
2 - Dan the Dry may be the true Stranger in Town   
3 - Rebecca the Sassy may be lying about doing her own nails at home.   
4 - Dan the Dry is bleeding and on the verge of becoming Dan the Damp, or Dan the Drenched, or even--should things with he and P.W. not work out, Dan the Dumped--or (don't say it!) Dan the Dead.   
5 - Consolation Husband is on his way home to a scene of staged domestic chaos, designed by Det. Sassy in order to throw him over the edge and cause him to commit attempted murder.   
6 - Stranger is revealed to feel an unnatural sense of loyalty to C.H., and lack of decency where hitting another man's wife is concerned. 

A Stranger in Town: Part 26: Prognosis Negative 

Dan the Dry was dead. 

He had seen the darkness, like his own blood spreading across his only recently damaged chest cavity, and then he had seen the light, and the light seemed a lot like the outline of Detective Stranger, who had thrown himself at DAD, and with the help of Det. Rebecca the Sassy they had both subdued and then hog-tied the older man there in the hallway of C.H.'s second floor, outside the bedroom of Pretty Wife. 

Because he was dead, Dan the Dry couldn't talk, or ask the other two what would happen next, or what the best course of action should be for them with C.H. due home from his meeting w/ McCoy any minute. 

Instead, like a dead man should, he was still. The Sassy ran to his motionless side and told Stranger to help her carry him into the bedroom. 

Neither seemed to think about the pre-planned scene of domestic chaos and how having a corpse in the boudoir staging area could put a rather different spin on things. They deposited Dan the Dry on the mattress of satin sheets, all prepped for that evening's betrayal, next to an unconscious Pretty Wife. 

Dan the Dry thought about how sorry he was to be dead. He would like to have confessed everything he had remembered to P.W.--but then, that wasn't her real name, was it? No, that was her married name, not the name he had known her as--save for that final, fatal car ride. He had known her as--Nice Girl. His own Nice Girl. He wished he weren't dead so that he could practice saying the beloved name aloud. _Nice Girl_

"What happened to her," Sassy asked Stranger. "Who roughed her up?" 

"DAD, I think," Stranger told her. "When I got here there was already a pretty bad bruise," he reached down to tenderly touch P.W.'s face. 

The Sassy grabbed at his hand. "Then why do you have skin under the emblem of your fraternity ring--mixed with some of her hair?" Sassy reached for her gun. 

"That would be a mistake," Stranger told her, and pulled out a lead pipe he had taken from the bathroom when he was dismantling the gas lines to add the final touch to his suicidal tryst gone wrong that he was preparing to frame a known-to-be-jealous C.H. for. "Oh, well" he quipped as he conked the Sassy out with the pipe. "It'll just have to be an 'a trois'." He chuckled. "Never let it be said Stranger can't be flexible." 

Then Stranger began to cry, quietly and into his hands, as he stepped out of the room, shut the door and dragged the bound and gagged DAD out of the house. 

Dan the Dry was concerned. A gas leak was nothing to fool around with. He didn't want to see the unconscious Rebecca the Sassy and Pretty W--Nice Girl die. And he wanted to figure out what was going on. 

It began to occur to him as gas invisibly filled the room that he was pretty sure the dead did not figure things out. That was odd. Why would he want to do something a dead person was incapable of doing? He flexed his strong, muscular leg and watched, surprised, as it responded. He tried a hand. 

* * *

by: TRVMB 

Aluisa sighed as she pulled into Pretty Wife's and Consolation Husband's driveway.  As she admired the beautifully manicured lawn and newly planted impatiens, she wistfully thought of the lovely two days she had just spent with her "good friend," Raul.  How nice it had been of her boss, Consolation Husband, to unexpectedly give her some time off from her duties as their maid!  And how much enjoyment she and Raul had shared...  Aluisa's cheeks flushed.  She cleared her throat, checked her gray hair in the rearview mirror, and turned off the ignition.  Well, back to reality.  She wondered if Junior would even remember her, seeing as how she hadn't appeared in the storyline since at least Part Five or Six, and then she had been called Eluisa. 

As she approached the house, Aluisa stopped in her tracks.  Something was clearly amiss here.  The front door was unlocked, and the smell of natural gas permeated the air.  Instead of going to a neighbor's house to call the gas company, as she had always been instructed to do in situations like this, Aluisa boldly entered the house, covering her mouth and nose with her starched uniform apron.  She ran to the basement and closed the gas shutoff valve, then returned to the living quarters to investigate. 

Muffled noise came from upstairs.  As she ascended the stairwell, Aluisa noticed blood on one wall.  Her knees began to tremble within her white support stockings, but still she continued.  She had to make sure Junior was okay.  As she reached the doorway to the nursery, she heard a faint cry coming from the master suite. 

Slowly, Aluisa opened the door to Pretty Wife's and Consolation Husband's bedroom.  She gasped as she saw Pretty Wife on the bed, clearly injured, with a strange woman and man.  She quietly began to exit the room, unsure if this woman and man with Pretty Wife had caused her injuries.  She needed to call 911. 

"Aluisa..." Pretty Wife muttered, her once flawless face swollen and bruised.  "Help me.  Help us."  

Aluisa returned to the bedroom. 

"Mrs. Wife, what in the name of all that is holy has happened here?" 

"There's no time.  Aluisa, help me.  We've got to..."  PW was fading in and out of consciousness. 

"Mrs. Wife!  Mrs. Wife!!  Please, stay with me!" 

"Aluisa, we've got to get out of here.  Help me get these people into my sensible vehicle." 

"Mrs. Wife, who has done this to you?" 

"Enough, Aluisa!  I'll explain it all to you later.  If we don't get them out now, none of us will survive to see the end of this day."  Pretty Wife pulled herself up off of the bed and stood up on the elegant hardwood flooring of the bedroom that she and Consolation Husband shared.  The room began to spin, and her head was throbbing.  "Keep it together, Pretty Wife," she said to herself.  She looked over at Rebecca the Sassy and at Dan the Dry.  It appeared that the Dry had been shot!  Blood was oozing from his previously perfect, hairless chest onto her satin bedding.  Pretty Wife's heart sank.  Those stains would NEVER come out. 

"Help me wake up Detective the Sassy, Aluisa," Pretty Wife instructed. Aluisa and Pretty Wife gently shook the Sassy's legs and arms, willing her to consciousness. 

"Wha...  Where....  Oh, my friggin' head," the Sassy murmured. 

"I know, Detective, I know.  We've got to get out of here.  C.H. and McCoy will be here any minute.  We'll figure everything out later.  Right now, Aluisa and I have to get you and Detective the Dry out of here.  He's been shot." 

The Dry began to moan. 

"It's OK, Detective the Dry.  We're going to get you out of here," Pretty Wife said, reassuringly. 

"I'm all alone..."  The Dry was clearly delirious from his loss of blood. 

"We're here, the Dry.  Try to stay calm--we need to get you down the stairs," Detective the Sassy explained.  She lifted under his shoulders, Pretty Wife supported his trunk, and Aluisa took his legs.  They carefully maneuvered him down the stairs and out the front door.  This was no small feat, as Dan the Dry was a tall, muscular, hairless manly man.  Somehow the three ladies managed to lie the Dry in the backseat of Pretty Wife's sensible vehicle; Pretty Wife crawled into the back with him.  Aluisa took shotgun, and Rebecca the Sassy took the wheel. 

As the Sassy quickly put the car into gear, Pretty Wife lovingly stroked the blond-tipped hair on Detective the Dry's beautiful head.  This poor man had been through so much in the last few days.  First, he was mowed down right here in front of her home, that was neatly positioned within a lovely development, by a late-model American-made blue Buick belonging to, yet not driven by, Detective Rebecca the Sassy.  After a speedy and miraculous recovery from THAT near-death experience, here he was, yet again, knocking on death's door as the result of a gunshot wound.  All this pain, all this needless suffering.......  and all for HER.  Pangs of guilt heavied her heart, as she looked at his perfect face.  If it weren't for her, Detective the Dry would probably be drycleaning right now.  Or surfing.  Or coloring his hair.  Or working out.  Or.... 

"Mmm......  Errr....," Dan the Dry moaned. 

"Don't you worry, Detective the Dry.  We're going to get you some help. You're going to be fine," Pretty Wife whispered, hoping against hope that her words were true. 

"Nice Girl?"  Pretty Wife started at Detective the Dry's use of her maiden name.  How did HE know.... 

"May you never be alone like me."  And with that, his exquisite eyes closed, as the whole of his body slumped against Pretty Wife. 

"We need to hurry, Detective the Sassy.  I think we're losing him!" Pretty Wife screamed. 

"Get down, P.W.  Lie down in the floorboard.  Aluisa, you crouch down, too. Guess who's driving right towards us?  Things are about to get interesting. Hold on!" 

As Detective the Sassy sped Pretty Wife's sensible vehicle down the road, the outline of a black Sports Utility Vehicle appeared on the horizon. Behind the wheel?  Consolation Husband. 

* * *

by: KLS 

When we last left our burgeoning cast, they were on the run with Rebecca the Sassy behind the wheel.  Dan the Dry was bleeding his life away.  Pretty Wife was nursing Dan the Dry while ignoring her own head injury.  Aluisa, the absentee maid, was thinking she should've stayed with Raul. 

Pretty Wife crouched down in the backseat of the sensible car just as the back windshield shattered.  Glass sprayed everywhere.  She covered Dan the Dry with her body to protect him from the shards--even though she remembered from the driver's manual of the sensible car that the windshield was designed with space-age glass-like material so that the glass didn't hurt you when it broke.  She didn't think of that.  She only thought of keeping Dan the Dry safe.  

And, to be honest, Dan the Dry was enjoying it--even as he drifted in and out of consciousness, and even though his long legs were draped awkwardly over the carseat that was in the backseat--because Pretty Wife's breasts were in his face.  Perhaps not the best time to cop a feel, but at the rate he was going, he might never get another chance. 

Rebecca the Sassy said, "Hold on" and what follows is a car chase, through the winding back roads of Town Falls.  The sensible car is airborne over a couple of the hills and we see that shot of underneath the car in slow motion.  And then we turn the channel to see what else is on until the car chase is over.  _Law and Order_, perhaps?  A rerun of _Saturday Night Live_? 

*** 

Rebecca the Sassy looked around.  "I think we lost him."  She looked in the backseat.  "We better get Dan the Dry inside."  

During the over-long car chase they had crossed the town limits into Small Town, and Rebecca the Sassy had driven to Pretty Wife's mom's house, deep in the woods.  

Mom came out of the house, wiping her hands on a tea-towel with chickens and cows dancing joyfully together on it.  "Why, Pretty Wife, I wasn't expecting you.  And what are you wearing? Is that a negligee?  Goodness!"  But then Mom saw Pretty Wife's too pale face and the shiner that was emerging across her face. 

"We need your help, Mom." 

"Of course, dear.  I would do anything for you.  Come in, come in." 

The three women hoisted Dan the Dry into the house, which wasn't easy, and laid him out on the dining room table, though not before removing the antique lace runner.  

"The Dry's been shot, Mom.  We can't go to the police because they're in on it and that means we can't go to the hospital.  He's lost a lot of blood," Pretty Wife began before blubbering incoherently.  She covered her face with her hands and cried and cried. 

Mom patted Pretty Wife on the shoulder. "Now, now, dear.  Leave it all to Mother."  Mom gave Rebecca the Sassy and Aluisa some orders and they disappeared into the kitchen.  Mom opened the hall closet, pushed around a few boardgames on the top shelf, _Sorry_ and _Risk_, _Headache_ and _Aggravation_, before producing a black leather bag.  Mom pulled on some latex gloves with a snap. 

Pretty Wife was amazed.  Her mouth dropped open as Mom handed a pair of gloves to her. 

"A gaping mouth isn't an attractive feature on a young woman, Pretty Wife," Mom reminded her.  "Don't look so squeamish, dear, it's just a little blood. He'll be right as rain as soon as I dig the bullet out." 

*** 

Pretty Wife sat in one of her mother's Queen Anne chairs with a piece of round steak pressed to her face.  She was beyond trying to understand anything.  She just wanted to stay in the chair forever.  And then she remembered: Junior! She stood straight up.  What kind of mother would forget about her child? "Mom, I have to find Junior!" 

"Well, do you remember where you put him last?" she asked as she polished the dining room table, trying to prevent the blood from staining the fine-grain wood.  

"He's not a set of keys, Mom.  I have to go back to Town Falls." 

"Not looking like that you aren't.  A proper lady doesn't wear intimate apparel outside of the boudoir." 

Pretty Wife ignored her mother.  She had to find her precious bundle of joy, Junior, the fulfillment of her biological and social destiny.  But at that moment, the front door swung open--no need to lock the front door in sleepy Small Town--and Consolation Husband walked in, Junior on his hip and a gun pointing right at the round steak pressed to Pretty Wife's face.  

Pretty Wife's shoulders sagged.  She gave up.  She didn't want to run anymore.  She didn't want to have to figure it out.  She knew that no matter how simple Rebecca the Sassy tried to make her visual aids, she would never understand.  

Pretty Wife held her hands up.  The steak dropped to the floor.  And Stranger crashed through the bay window in the front room. 

* * *

by: AAB 

Previously on A STRANGER IN TOWN...   
Pretty Wife's shoulders sagged, gave up, didn't want to run anymore.    
Pretty Wife held her hands up.  The steak dropped to the floor.  And   
Stranger crashed through the bay window in the front room. 

*** 

"Who is this? What? What?" Mom asked, entering the front room, its picture window now little more than pebbles on the floor. 

"I am Nexus," declared Stranger, brandishing a gun, "from Mexituxis Secundus. I am here to take my wounded brother home to our planet. He will not survive long in this Argon and various other noble gases-based atmosphere." 

"What?" asked Pretty Wife, looking up from the steak, now spoiling on the floor. "I thought you were my dear departed DeadBoy--Mom, surely *you* can see the resemblance?" 

"Well, yes, he does look like him. Yes, yes he does. I've got the necessary instruments here to do a DNA blood test, if you'd like, P.W." 

Stranger's eyes clouded for a moment and he seemed for an instant to lose track of where he was. "Mom?" he asked, his voice like a child's. "Is that you? It's been so long--and to find you now, like this--" he bent to the floor, scraped the glass pebbles off the fallen steak and lifted it tenderly in his hands, muttering to himself. 

"Oh, dear," said Dan the Dry, who had made his way toward the commotion and was now leaning in the doorway. "This is all much worse than I had expected. We've got to find DAD." 

"I suppose that sounds just about as sensible as anything else I've heard today," Mom responded, kneeling by the for-the-moment steak-consumed Stranger and efficiently (and unobtrusively) drawing the blood necessary to perform the DNA test. 

"Fine by me," threw in Pretty Wife, happy for once to let the others decide. It was almost like old times. "I just hope this doesn't all end in an unexplainable blood bath." 

* * *

by: TRVMB 

Consolation Husband and Junior exit Pretty Wife's mother's restroom and re-enter the scene in the front room.  "Whew, that's better," exclaimed Consolation Husband.  "Had to drain the old lizard.  Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, of course, terrorizing the lot of you."  And with that, he replaced Junior onto his hip and raised his gun, pointing it directly at Pretty Wife.  "And how are you, my love?  Judging from that shiner on your eye, not too well.  That's what happens when Pretty Wives seduce innocent, mentally ill Strangers, though, isn't it?" 

Stranger looked up, the neat-o glass shards and spoiling meat on the floor forgotten.  "My leader!  All hail Lexus, Grand Pooba of Mexituxis Secundus!" 

Even Consolation Husband looked a little annoyed with Stranger's sci-fi manic hallucination, as Pretty Wife demanded, "Give me my son.  He's been through enough.   Why have you involved us in your eeeeeeeeeeeevil?"  She boldly approached C.H. 

"I'd advise you, Pretty, to keep your distance," Consolation Husband chided as he raised the gun higher.  Wisely, Pretty Wife ceased her advance. 

"C.H., what has become of you?" Doctor Mom questioned. 

"Shut your piehole.  If there's one thing I don't need right now, besides a psychotic cohort, it's my mother-in-law sticking her nose into this.  This matter is between my wife, my son, and myself.  AND, apparently, my maid." 

Aluisa stared sheepishly at her ergonomically correct, supportive shoes. 

"So, you've been doing a little investigative work, eh, my darling?  You're no Nancy Drew.  You've been a part of my Master Plan since the day we met, and you are JUST NOW catching on.  Didn't notice that the flyer that you received all those years ago regarding the low, low interest rates at Town Falls Bank and Trust wasn't a bulk mailing, did you?  No, no, that was a special flyer, devised just for you.  Lured you right into my office, though, didn't it?  You were so naive, such a sucker, always looking for ways to save a buck.  As if you NEED to scrimp and save.  I planned the whole thing." 

Pretty Wife's bruised head began to spin.  What was he saying?  He had TRICKED her into stopping into the bank that day, all those long years ago? Her heart had still been broken then, after the loss of Deadboy, and she hadn't really even been interested in Consolation Husband, not like THAT. But he seemed so nice, so friendly, and she was lonely.  One thing had led to another, and before she knew it, she had married C.H.  Now she was beginning to understand why he'd been so suave, so charming, so debonair. 

"No one will ever know what became of you, Pretty Wife.  You and Junior and I are about to disappear for good." 

Pretty Wife knew she should be waxing fearful (after all, that's what a lady does in these types of situations), but she could feel the anger boiling within her heaving bosom.  This man was in for a fight. "Consolation Husband, how do you think you earned your name?  Do you _really_ think you are breaking my heart?  You are CONSOLATION Husband.  You are the husband I accepted only after I lost the one I truly loved.  You see, **another love, before your time, left my heart sad and blue**.  You will not frighten me into submission.  **If you only want to hurt me, there'll be no teardrops tonight**." 

Before Consolation Husband could react to Pretty Wife's sudden and unprecedented exhibition of strength, Rebecca the Sassy and Dan the Dry (who has, yet again, shown remarkable resolve and stamina and appears to have fully recovered from the earlier gunshot wound to his muscled, hairless chest) stormed into the front room.  The Dry tackled him from behind, as the Sassy caught Junior.  As the Dry began to wrestle C.H. to the ground, the gun flew up into the air, and fired. 

A voice sounded in the room:  "I'm hit!" 

* * *

by: AAB 

[brief flashback]   
Det. Rebecca the Sassy sat on the edge of the tub in Dr. Mom's master bath and pulled several highlighters and mechanical pencils from her pocket. She took out some 3x5 cards from her other pocket and set to work. Under the header of "DNA tests needed," she wrote the following:   
1.      Who are the biological parents of Baby Heir. 

2.     Is Det. Stranger Pretty Wife's lost love?           
Lost half-brother?           
Lost first-husband? 

3.      Who are Det. Stranger's biological parents? 

Under the header of "Possible Betrayal/Psychosis" she added:   
4.      What has become of Det. Agent Dragnet?           
Where is he physically?           
Has he betrayed the Metro PD? 

5.      What is up with the wacky (and of late violent) hijinks of Det. Stranger?           
Is he really amnesiac?           
Or even sane? 

Lastly, she added a final column, "Legally binding relationships:"   
6.      Who, if anyone, is married to Pretty Wife? 

"Oops!" She realized almost too late she needed an entirely separate 3x5 _just_ for Consolation Husband. 

7.      What is his crime? 

8.      What should be his punishment? 

9.      Has he truly engineered all that has gone before?       
    What even is "all that has gone before?" 

10.     Did he, as he told her only last week, truly love both her, Rebecca the Sassy, _and_ her little boy Leroy? And would he, as promised, take them both away from Town Falls once all of this was over? 

She thought a moment longer, penned in the need to create a handy, color-coded timeline of events, and burst from the master suite's bathroom and into the living room, just in time (as we already know, gentle readers) to tackle C.H. with the help of Dan the Dry. 

In the melee, there was a struggle, and in trying to wrestle the deadly weapon out of C.H.'s grip, the gun went off. Pleased with herself and her smooth disarming of a possible felon (if they could ever figure out the necessary charges), Det. the Sassy, in true Sassy-fashion declared with pride, "I'm [the] [s]h*t!" 

_...to be continued..._

* * *

DISCLAIMER: This is entirely a work of parody and satirical fiction, and claims no affiliation with the Lifetime Network and remains the exclusive intellectual property of its respective authors at MBTV4Supalazy; AAB, TRVMB, JMG, and KLS. Posted by Neftzer (c) 2003 


End file.
